Shadow Strike
by StarLily56
Summary: Eighteen months into her five-year mission, the Enterprise is witness to the mysterious destruction of a peculiar alien moon. With a new addition to the senior command team, the crew set out to investigate the strange occurrence and soon uncover what may be the greatest threat the Federation has faced yet. Story is OC-centric, but the whole gang gets face time here.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Thanks so much for taking the time to read! This is my first attempt at writing fiction of any sort, and I'm very excited to be testing the waters in the fabulous world of Star Trek. This story follows the Abramsverse, so there will be occasional references to the events of _****Into Darkness****_. Just so you know what you're getting into, there will be 45 chapters in this story. Let's get this mission started!_**

**_**Story Progress: 0%_**

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_Stardate 2261.272_

Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship _U.S.S. Enterprise _was many things - impulsive, brilliant, charming, and even a bit reckless. But one thing he was not was patient. And at the current moment, what little patience he did have was being sorely tested by a Vulcan who now held the lives of several thousand people in the balance.

"Spock," Kirk said, trying to hide the rising irritation he felt, "Give me some good news."

The half-Vulcan first officer did not look up from his station on the bridge, but continued to study the rapidly flashing screen in front of him. "I am attempting to integrate Mr. Scott's sensor readings with the archived schematics for the reactor." Spock's fingers flew over the glowing console. "I predict the analysis will be complete in approximately 1 minute and 45 seconds."

"Captain, based on our readings, the reactor will lose structural integrity in less than three minutes," Lt. Hikaru Sulu called from his position at the helm of the ship. His voice was calm, but his words conveyed what everyone on the bridge already knew – they were quickly running out of time.

"Lieutenant, lock on to Scotty and Carol's signals. I want them beamed out of there if we can't fix this." Kirk ordered Sulu, his voice tight.

"Aye, sir. Ready to transport," Sulu confirmed, punching in the requested coordinates on the planet's surface below. His fingers remained poised above the console, awaiting only his captain's order to beam his two comrades back to the Enterprise.

Kirk looked back to the view screen. The Enterprise had responded to a distress call from Regus IV, a Class L planet located in the Azati Prime system. A group of Andorian separatists had established a small colony on the previously uninhabited planet several years ago and were experiencing difficulties with the anti-matter reactor providing power to the settlement. By the time the Enterprise reached orbit around the planet and Kirk had made contact with the colony's leadership, the situation had turned critical. The reactor had suffered a breach and was only minutes away from complete system failure, which would wipe out the colony and most of its roughly 3,000 inhabitants.

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and Science Officer Carol Marcus had quickly beamed down to the surface to assist in emergency repairs. However, their efforts had been stymied by the primitive programming language used in the outdated reactor's routing system. The Enterprise's computer database was able to locate a schematic of the reactor, but the coding language was ancient and needed to be translated into more modern scientific terms for it to be of any use to Scotty and Dr. Marcus on the surface.

Just then, Scotty's voice was heard over the bridge's comm. "Enterprise, I've done all I can do here. I need that code sequencing!" he implored, referring to the calculations Spock was currently manipulating.

"We're working on it, Scotty," Kirk said, his hands balled into fists at his side.

"Captain, if we don't get that code, the reactor's containment system _will _fail in less than two minutes," Carol added anxiously over the comm. Her normally soft voice had an edge to it, which was more than justified in the present circumstances.

Just then, Lieutenant Uhura called out from her station, "Captain, the colony is awaiting our direction to begin evacuation procedures." Her face displayed the same anxious concern that Kirk felt coursing through his body.

"Mr. Spock?" Kirk questioned, his voice thick with tension.

"Calculating," Spock responded evenly, betraying no emotion.

"45 seconds, Captain," Ensign Pavel Chekov, the ship's navigator, announced from his seat. The level of tension on the bridge increased palpably. Kirk prepared to give the order to pull his two crew members on the planet's surface out of harm's way, the words already half-formed in his throat.

Suddenly, the tension was broken as Spock called out, "Analysis complete. Transmitting to the surface now." His task complete, Spock turned in his chair to face the forward viewscreen which was fixed on an aerial view of the sprawling colony below.

"Scotty, tell me you've got it," Kirk practically yelled.

"Transmission received. Stand by, Enterprise," was Scotty's terse reply.

The next few seconds were agonizing ones, as the crew waited helplessly for the officers on the ground to work their magic. Every pair of ears on the bridge strained to hear the next transmission and every pair of eyes remained riveted to the viewscreen in front of them, fearing the sight of the deadly explosion that threatened to ripple out from the complex's core at any minute.

Chekov was the first to speak. "Captain, radiation levels are dropping," he announced. "90 per cent. 75 percent. 48 percent. 30 per cent." The young man broke into a smile. "Radiation levels are within normal parameters. They did it!"

A small cheer went up from the bridge, as a dozen heartbeats started to return to normal. Across the various stations on the bridge, a multitude of flashing lights and indicators confirmed Chekov's analysis that the colony, along with Mr. Scott and Dr. Marcus, were indeed out of danger.

"Enterprise, we have successfully contained the reactor malfunction. Operating systems returning to normal," Carol's voice called out from the comm.

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief and felt some of the tension that he had been holding on to for the past few minutes leave his body. He flopped back into his Captain's chair with less grace than he would have liked. "Scotty, you and Dr. Marcus finish up those repairs and get back to the Enterprise right away, got it?"

"Aye, Captain. With pleasure," Scotty sounded as relieved as the rest of the bridge crew felt.

Kirk turned to Spock, only to be greeted by his calm, unflappable countenance. There were times when he envied the Vulcan's masterful control of his emotions, and there were other times when he hated him for it. Kirk wasn't sure which feeling currently held sway in his mind at the moment.

"Mr. Spock, I don't suppose next time you could cut that any closer?" Kirk asked sarcastically.

Spock looked at the Captain and tilted his head slightly. "If you desire, Captain, in the future I will make a concerted effort to utilize every available second before averting total disaster," he said, with no hint of irony in his voice.

Kirk wondered if Spock was developing a sense of humor or if he was just getting used to his first officer's unique brand of communication. Either way, Kirk mentally added today's incident to the long list of reasons he was glad Spock was his second-in-command – even if, from time to time, Spock did have a habit of raining on Kirk's parade, so to speak.

Seated next to the Vulcan in question, Uhura suddenly turned in her chair to face Kirk. "Captain, we are receiving an incoming transmission from Starfleet Headquarters. It's from Admiral Davison."

_Never a minute's rest around here_, Kirk thought. "On screen, Lieutenant," he ordered.

Uhura paused. "Sir, the Admiral is requesting to speak with you in private," she said, looking somewhat concerned. Both Chekov and Sulu turned around in unison from their seats to look questioningly at the Captain.

Kirk was surprised but quickly arranged his features in a studied look of composure. "Lieutenant, please patch the message through to the briefing room." He rose from his chair and headed toward the turbolift. "Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

"Aye, Sir." Spock confirmed, moving to take Kirk's place in the Captain's chair.

Kirk left the bridge and rode the turbolift down one deck. He exited the lift and turned to his left. A metallic door automatically slid open as he approached, granting him access to a small room that held a long table surrounded by a dozen chairs. Kirk sat himself at the head of the table and manipulated a few controls to activate the viewscreen embedded in the far wall of the room.

"Admiral Davison," Kirk greeted his superior officer. "What can I do for you today?"

The woman staring back at Kirk from the viewscreen appeared to be in her late 50s with coarse salt and pepper hair pulled back perhaps somewhat too severely from her face. The lines etched in her dark skin spoke to the years of service she had accumulated at Starfleet. The smile the Admiral now wore did not quite reach her eyes.

"Captain Kirk, it's good to see you and the Enterprise safe and sound after the incident on Kasius," Davison said, more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Just six days earlier, Enterprise sensors had detected a strange energy surge originating on the smallest of the three moons of Kasius, an uninhabited planetoid located on the outskirts of the Rylandian system. Kirk ordered the Enterprise to divert from her present course and take up orbit around Kasius to investigate the source of the energy fluctuations. However, within just minutes of the ship's arrival, the energy readings quickly spiked off the charts, sending the ship's sensor bank into disarray.

As the bridge crew watched on the forward viewscreen, giant angry-looking red cracks began to materialize in the sphere's crust. The cracks spread quickly across the surface of the minor moon, and before Kirk could order the ship to retreat to a safer distance, the moon suddenly exploded in a brilliant flash of light, to the total shock of everyone watching on board.

The destruction of the small body was instantaneous and complete, and the Enterprise was pummeled in the resulting shower of rock and ice shards. Fortunately, the moon was small enough that it didn't cause any serious damage to the ship outside of some jagged-looking, but ultimately superficial, scars scratched along the length of the main deflector dish.

Kirk knew he was lucky his vessel had not sustained any crippling injuries during the incident. While Jim Kirk rarely second guessed his command decisions, he had mentally kicked himself for bringing the Enterprise in so close to the moon before it could be determined if the energy source was potentially unstable or dangerous. His report to Starfleet Command had attempted to minimize this fact, but looking at the face of the Admiral now before him, he suspected that his misstep had not gone totally unnoticed.

"Thank you for your concern, Admiral," Kirk said, trying to keep his irritation in check. "You'll be glad to know that we've managed to collect several tons of debris from the moon's collapse, both organic and inorganic. All of our science teams are currently working to identify the cause of the moon's destruction." Kirk would have gladly spent several more days on location to allow his team to examine the site of the incident, but the distress call from Regus IV quickly put an end to that effort.

The woman frowned. "Captain Kirk, that won't be necessary. We've just ordered the _U.S.S._ _California_ to reroute to Kasius to complete investigation of the event. Your further assistance will not be required on this matter," she said firmly.

"But the Enterprise is much closer," Kirk said, confused. "And our sensors have already recorded a significant volume of data that could be very helpful in…."

The Admiral cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "Mr. Kirk, you have your orders. You will transmit your sensor logs to Captain Rodriguez on the _California _and she will take it from here. The Admiralty feels the Enterprise is better served on a more…. routine exploratory assignment in a more stable star system. I should think you and your crew have had enough close calls by now that perhaps a little less excitement is called for."

Her words hit Kirk like a phaser blast. _She_ _doesn't trust me, _he thought._ Starfleet doesn't trust me. They think I'm putting the Enterprise in danger so they're sending us off somewhere they think I can't do any damage._

"Captain," Admiral Davison continued, breaking into Kirk's thoughts, "You are also ordered to unload any debris collected subsequent to the moon's implosion. Is that understood?"

Kirk wasn't sure if he heard correctly. "Unload? As in, dump it into space?"

"Yes, Captain, that is the general idea. According to your report, there should be more than enough fragmentary pieces caught in Kasius' orbit for the _California_ to complete her analysis. There's no need for the Enterprise to retain any unnecessary cargo," Davison told him.

Now Jim Kirk was annoyed. This was the first really interesting thing the Enterprise had come across in nearly a year and a half in space and now he was being pulled off the mission and told to jettison a treasure trove of scientific material so he could go stare into empty space in some remote sector of the galaxy. It was so unfair…

Across the light years, Admiral Davison met Kirk's gaze. "Is this a problem, Captain?" she asked, archly.

"No ma'am." Kirk replied dutifully, even as he was mentally giving her the middle finger.

"Captain, we trust you will make every effort to keep the Enterprise out of trouble for the remainder of her voyage. We would prefer that our flagship, and her crew, return to Earth unharmed." The woman paused and fixed Kirk with a stony look. "And to be frank, the Admiralty is unconvinced that such a mission is possible with… current personnel resources."

"To that end," Davison continued, and Kirk's insides dropped just a little bit. "I am initiating a crewmember transfer, effective immediately. I am assigning Commander Vanessa Bennett to the Enterprise as Chief Operations Officer. Upon her arrival, she will serve as the ship's Second Officer."

Kirk blinked. "Ma'am?" _Was the Enterprise getting a babysitter?_

Davison's face was impassive. "The Admiralty feels that a new command position will greatly benefit the Enterprise during the remainder of her mission." She looked down and read from a PADD she was holding in her right hand. "Commander Bennett is a trained scientist and served onboard the _U.S.S. Luna_ and on Vulcan for a year before transferring back to Earth. She taught Astrophysics here at Starfleet Academy for several years before leaving to pursue her medical degree. She has at least a passing familiarity with three or four languages and most recently served aboard the _Ulysses_, which had an unfortunate run-in with the Klingons, as I'm sure you've heard."

"Sounds like she could replace us all," Kirk attempted to joke. He could feel a headache starting above his left eye.

Davison was not amused. "That's the point, Mr. Kirk. The Operations Chief will be responsible for shadowing operations and procedures in all major ship-wide areas, identifying any glaring inefficiencies and implementing corrective measures. We can't have the flagship of the fleet risking its destruction from any other exploding planets now, can we?" For some reason, her thin smile made Kirk shudder.

Kirk paused, his mind searching for the right words. "Is there any particular reason for Commander Bennett's transfer at this particular point? I mean, why now in the middle of our exploratory mission?"

"The Admiralty expects this new command position will more effectively integrate the ship's many disparate functions and reduce overall operating inefficiencies. To accomplish this, an officer with training in several cross-functional areas is required. I believe you'll find Commander Bennett a fully qualified and resourceful addition to your crew." Davison's answer sounded a bit rehearsed to Kirk.

"Yes, I'm sure we will," Kirk said, hoping rather than believing it to be the case.

"In two weeks' time, the Enterprise is ordered to report to Deep Space Station Sigma. A long-range transport will meet you there to facilitate the Commander's transfer on board." Davison continued.

Kirk sighed internally. Sigma Station was some distance from their current position and would likely require several additional days of travel time to make the required rendezvous.

"Acknowledged, Admiral," Kirk replied, already mentally calculating the possible repercussions if he chose to ignore the order. Not that he would, but the thought cheered him somewhat.

"After that, we expect that the Enterprise will resume her prior course toward the Talarian system for the next leg of her exploratory mission," Davison informed him.

"Understood," Kirk responded. He knew Spock would be disappointed, or at least as disappointed as a Vulcan could be, that he would not be able to continue his analysis of the moon's unexplained demise. Hell, Kirk himself was probably disappointed enough for the both of them.

"Excellent. Further instructions will follow. And, Captain?" The woman arched an eyebrow, reminding Kirk instantly of his First Officer. "Try to keep the Enterprise in one piece this time. Davison out." The woman's visage disappeared from the viewscreen.

Kirk ended the transmission and sighed again. He felt just a tiny bit of the day's earlier tension return to his body. The idea of abandoning the investigation of the deceased Kasian moon didn't sit well with him. The Enterprise really was in the best position to figure out what had happened to the now-fragmented body. _But he had his orders._

Kirk's fingers paused over the communications link he was about to initiate to the ship's cargo bay. Inside that room's cavernous dimensions sat the debris collected from the destroyed moon. Even now, his crew was hard at work sifting through the detritus, looking for answers to the mysterious celestial event. _It would be such a damn shame to dump all that scientific evidence,_ he thought.

In his years in the Captain's chair, Jim Kirk had learned to rely on his gut. Even if he couldn't rationalize why he did some of the things he did, he trusted that small voice in his head that spoke to him in decisive moments. And right now, that voice was telling him not to jettison that cargo, orders be damned.

He leaned back in his chair, his decision made. Starfleet didn't need to know about this. No harm could possibly come from letting Spock, Marcus, and the rest of the science team poke around for a little while longer. They could always get rid of the collected debris after their analysis was complete. After all, the Admiral had ordered him to jettison the cargo, but she hadn't said _when_ he had to do it. There would be plenty of time to follow orders – later.

Kirk was just about to congratulate himself on his mental gymnastics when the second part of the Admiral's message floated back into his mind. He would be getting a new Operations Chief, sent to critique every aspect of his ship's daily activities - just what he needed.

Why was Starfleet assigning a new senior officer to the Enterprise mid-mission and taking the trouble to transport her all the way out here to the outer reaches of space? He had gotten along just fine without a Chief Operations Officer for the better part of the past year and a half – why try to fix something that wasn't broken? And why did he have a feeling that this was somehow a punishment for him and for his crew?

Kirk didn't like it when the top brass, light years away and comfortable in their earthbound offices, stuck their noses into the business of running _his_ starship. He knew how his crew operated, what their strengths and weaknesses were, and most importantly, he knew that he could count on every last one of them to do their duty even when their lives were at risk, which seemed to happen on a fairly regular basis.

He pushed away this last thought and called up Commander Bennett's personnel file on his view screen. Well, there was nothing he could do about the situation right now. Kirk figured he could make it all work out somehow. He usually did, one way or another. He just hoped the new senior officer would be able to easily blend in with his senior command team without any excessive hand-holding. Because if there was anything that Captain James T. Kirk wasn't, it was patient.


	2. Chapter 2

****Story Progress: 2%**

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Exactly two weeks later, with the Enterprise securely docked at Deep Space Station Sigma, Captain Kirk received a transmission on the bridge from the ship's transporter room.

"Sir, we are ready to beam our passenger aboard," the transporter technician informed him.

"Acknowledged, Ensign. I'll be right there," Kirk replied, rising from the Captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

From his seat, Spock turned to Kirk, curious as to why he had been overstepped in the chain of command. After all, as the ship's First Officer, it was only logical he be placed in charge in the Captain's absence. But Kirk anticipated his question. "You're with me, Mr. Spock. I'm not going to play the welcome wagon by myself."

Spock rose from his station and followed Kirk to the turbolift. Spock had also found it curious that the Enterprise was to be the recipient of a new senior officer engaged to fill a previously unutilized command position in the middle of the ship's extended voyage. The thought had occurred to him that the move may have been an attempt on Starfleet's part to neutralize the ship's notoriously impulsive and unconventional captain. Jim Kirk's exploits during his short tenancy in the Captain's chair were fast becoming something of a legend back at Starfleet headquarters and Spock surmised that the Admiralty may have been eager to hold Kirk's leash a bit tighter, as the Earth saying went. However, he did not voice this hypothesis during the briefing when Kirk informed the senior command team of Commander Bennett's impending arrival, nor did he voice it now as the two men left the bridge.

When the turbolift doors opened again on Deck 7, Kirk and Spock found themselves staring directly into the slightly perturbed face of Dr. Leonard McCoy. McCoy practically pounced on Kirk.

"There you are, you weaselly bastard," the doctor growled. "You missed your final vaccination series last week, and don't think I didn't notice. You either come with me to the Med Bay to finish your treatment now, or I'll throw you over my knee and finish the job right here."

Kirk flashed a winning smile at McCoy before throwing his arm around the older man and turning him around so he was facing the same direction as him and Spock. "Not now, Bones, I'm on an important diplomatic mission. In fact, I was just coming to find you. I need you to help represent the Enterprise senior command team in welcoming our new Operations Chief." His arm still around his friend, Kirk began walking down the ship's hallway.

But McCoy was having none of it. "Like hell you were. I know one of Jim Kirk's pathetic excuses for avoiding medical treatment when I hear it."

Kirk cranked up the charisma another notch. "No, really, Bones. I want to make our new Commander feel welcome aboard the Enterprise. Just come along and be your charming self and say hello. It will only take two minutes."

"Jim, I don't have two minutes," McCoy argued, but he could see it was a lost cause. Everything and everyone swayed before the will of James Tiberius Kirk.

"Bah, sure you do. See, we're here at the transporter room already." Kirk smiled again as the doors in front of him swished open. Grumbling, McCoy stepped into the room, followed close behind by Spock, who had been silently observing the interaction between the two friends.

Kirk strode into the room, confident as always. "Energize, Ensign," he ordered the crew member manning the transporter's controls.

"Aye, sir" the man replied, and with the push of a few buttons, the transporter pad was soon bathed in a wash of bright light.

As the form slowly materialized in front of the three senior officers, Spock's first reaction was one of surprise. Not that he truly felt surprise as a Vulcan, of course, but he thought that if he were fully human, the emotion he would be feeling now would be one of surprise.

Spock knew from reviewing Commander Bennett's personnel file that she was 38 years old, and held both a PhD in Astrophysics and a medical degree. She had served in Starfleet for over 15 years, earning high commendations and a medal of honor for her role in the _Ulysses_ incident. She had graduated third in her Academy class and her service record was impeccable. Given that record, Spock had expected a more mature-looking individual, but the woman now standing before him looked considerably younger. He would have estimated her age at no more than 30 if he had to judge on visuals alone.

Kirk's surprise was less disguised than Spock's. A smile slowly spread across his face as he scanned the officer in front of him. Unless Kirk was mistaken, and he was never mistaken about things like this, Commander Bennett was a very attractive woman. She had dark hair, which was pulled up into a bun at the back of her head, and deep, expressive blue eyes. Kirk noticed that she was not wearing the standard short-sleeve dress typically issued to female personnel, but a blue tunic and black pants, identical to the uniform worn by male science- and medical-track enlistees. Kirk studied her face. She certainly wasn't as beautiful as Lt. Uhura or Dr. Marcus, but she was easy on the eyes, no doubt.

As the last effects of the transporter beam faded away from the woman's form, each of the three men quickly analyzed the situation.

Spock wondered if the Commander's abilities would lend themselves to an efficient transition to her new command.

Kirk wondered how he had doubted the Admiral. Maybe having an Operations Chief on board wouldn't be so bad after all.

McCoy wondered when the hell he could get out of there and back to the Med Bay.

Vanessa Bennett blinked a few times to counteract the disorienting effect of being torn apart at a molecular level and then put back together again. As soon as she felt steady, she stepped down from the transporter pad and walked toward the three men.

Kirk stepped forward and with a broad smile, extended his hand to her. "Commander Bennett, I'm Captain James Kirk. It's a pleasure to have you on board."

Vanessa shook Jim's hand and offered a tight smile in return. "Thank you, Captain. I am honored to serve with you and your crew." She abruptly retracted her hand when she felt him holding her grip a moment longer than necessary.

For his part, Kirk chose to ignore the potential slight, his smile never faltering. "And this is my First Officer, Commander Spock," Kirk said, motioning to the Vulcan standing at his left.

Vanessa's smile was a bit warmer and more genuine as she raised her hand in the ta'al and spoke in very passable Vulcan, "_Live long and prosper, Spock. It is an honor to meet you."_

Spock again would have expressed surprise if he had felt it, but he quickly checked the burgeoning emotion. Instead, he returned the ta'al and replied, also in Vulcan, "_Peace and long life, Commander. The honor is mine."_ If Kirk didn't know better, he would have thought his First Officer almost looked flattered.

Kirk then motioned to the man on his right. "And this is the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"Ma'am," McCoy nodded in greeting, reaching out to shake the woman's outstretched hand. Even though she had been on the Enterprise for a grand total of 60 seconds, it was clear to Vanessa that McCoy wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Doctor, I look forward to working with you and your medical staff. Your recent research on the use of anti-retrovirals on the indigenous Enolian species for treatment of the Calyxss virus was very instructive," she told him, matter-of-factly.

McCoy may have relaxed a fraction of an inch. "Good to hear," he said, almost mustering a smile - but not quite. Kirk mentally shook his head at his friend. That was about as diplomatic and polite as Bones could manage under duress.

"Commander, the entire crew is at your disposal while you're with us," Kirk told her. "I expect you'll find the Enterprise in excellent working order. If there is anything I can do to personally assist you, please don't hesitate to ask."

The woman held Kirk's gaze for a moment, analyzing him closely. "Yes, of course," she finally replied. Her head bobbed up and down a few times, her eyes never leaving Kirk's face. For a moment, Kirk felt as if she were looking at him, but not really seeing him.

Suddenly, Vanessa appeared to break out of her train of thought with a sharp intake of breath. She drew herself up to her full height and refocused her attention on the man standing before her. "Captain, I'm quite eager to get started. Perhaps it would be best if I could be shown to my station on the bridge? I would like to begin my initial assessment as soon as possible." She looked expectantly at him, with no pretense of a smile this time.

Kirk tried to suppress a smirk. All business, this one was. Perhaps on second examination, she wasn't quite as attractive as his initial observation had led him to believe. She might be just a bit too serious for his taste. "Of course, Commander. Please accompany me to the bridge. The crew will make sure your belongings get to your quarters." Kirk directed his last sentence to the ensign manning the transporter console.

Vanessa turned to the crew member Kirk had addressed. "Ensign, I have some very sensitive equipment waiting to be brought aboard along with my personal effects," she told him. "I should like to see that nothing is damaged in the process."

"Yes, Ma'am, we'll make sure everything gets where it needs to be safely," he said, patiently. If Vanessa had turned around, she would have seen Kirk roll his eyes in McCoy's direction. _My people know how to do their jobs, _Kirk was on the verge of saying, but he held his tongue.

"Thank you, Ensign," Vanessa said, turning back to face the party that had greeted her arrival.

Kirk arranged his features in what he hoped was a neutral expression. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the door of the transporter room. Vanessa nodded curtly and turned to the exit.

The four officers exited the transporter room and Dr. McCoy quickly retreated to the Med Bay, but not before warning the Captain again about his missed vaccination. As the remaining trio walked back towards the turbolift, Kirk made an attempt at small talk with his new second officer. "And how was your journey out here to the outer reaches of the known universe, Commander?" he asked, turning one of his most charming smiles on her.

"Rather uneventful, I'm glad to say," the woman responded, completely unfazed by Kirk's winning smile. "Captain, I understand the Enterprise currently maintains a standard shield modulation of 257.4 Megahertz. Is that accurate?"

Kirk was a bit taken aback by her abrupt change of subject. Not to mention he had absolutely no idea what the Enterprise's shield frequency was. He quickly racked his brains for an intelligent-sounding answer. Fortunately, his first officer was slightly more prepared.

"Affirmative, Commander," Spock answered as they reached the turbolift and the doors slid open. "Prior study has determined a frequency in the range of 220 to 275 Megahertz to be optimal based on current power consumption patterns."

"Interesting," Vanessa trailed off, her mind clicking through some internal calculations. "I wonder if a perpetually rotating modulation wouldn't provide a greater tactical advantage. Assuming we can make a few adjustments down in Engineering to keep power drain at a consistent level, of course." A thoughtful look crossed her face as the three highest ranking officers of the U.S.S. Enterprise boarded the lift.

_Already planning how she's going to tinker with my ship,_ Kirk thought. _Why is Starfleet Command doing this to me? _

"Fascinating," Spock offered, clearly intrigued at the idea. "Doctor, I am quite eager to hear your forthcoming proposals for increasing operational efficiency."

"Thank you, Commander Spock," Vanessa replied, displaying her widest smile yet. "I look forward to making a full examination of ship-wide operations. I'm sure I will have many suggestions for improvement."

Kirk didn't respond. He couldn't help but grimace as the doors swished shut and he was glad neither of his companions could see his face.

Silence fell as the turbolift swiftly carried the three officers back to the ship's bridge. Each man was deep in thought about the new addition to the Enterprise crew, but each man for different reasons.


	3. Chapter 3

****Story Progress: 4%**

* * *

Vanessa Bennett sank down onto the bed in her new quarters and kicked off her boots, not caring where they landed. She flopped back on the mattress and let out a deep breath. She had survived her first few hours aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ unharmed, which, judging from the action the ship had seen in its short life, was not necessarily something that could be counted upon.

Her first hour on board was spent on the bridge, as Commander Spock quickly brought her up to date on the current status of the ship's various operational areas. While Vanessa had prepared for her new commission by making a thorough examination of the Enterprise's systems and procedures, she knew Mr. Spock's expertise would be invaluable in helping her get more acquainted with the ship now that she was actually on board. She focused her attention carefully to ensure that she fully absorbed the Commander's instructions and only presented him with well-considered queries, as she knew quite well the Vulcan propensity for reason and efficiency.

Vanessa decided almost immediately that she liked Spock and would enjoy working with him. She had been stationed on Vulcan for a year early in her Starfleet career and had come to entertain a great respect for the culture, in addition to gaining a near-fluency in the planet's native language. When Vulcan was destroyed three years ago, she had felt as though a small part of her had died as well. There was something very comforting in the race's reliance on logic and linear thinking. Sometimes humans could be so… messy, in comparison.

And when, approximately thirty minutes into his tutorial, Spock informed Vanessa that her knowledge of the Enterprise and her operational capabilities was "most impressive", she couldn't hide the small smile that snuck across her face.

"Yes, sir," she replied, trying not to look too smug.

Spock looked at her. "Interesting," he noted. "Upon receiving such a compliment, most humans would offer gratitude and attempt to downplay their expertise."

Vanessa tried to keep her smile from widening. "Would the Commander prefer I feign modesty?"

Again, Spock felt the stirrings of surprise at the new officer's manner. But he merely nodded his head and answered truthfully. "Indeed, I would not."

Vanessa returned the Vulcan's nod, feeling satisfied. She turned back to her station and the two continued their discussion. Neither of them noticed a pair of dark brown eyes briefly turned in their direction, narrowing ever so slightly.

Working with Mr. Spock on the bridge, nearly an hour had flown by before Commander Bennett realized it. She probably would have been happy to continue, engrossed in her task for quite a bit longer, but the Captain had interrupted, insistent that she take a break so that he could show her around the ship. Vanessa was reluctant to tear herself away from Spock's coaching, but she acquiesced to Kirk's request nonetheless.

Kirk eagerly ushered her off the bridge and went into tour guide mode. All the relevant points of interest were pointed out to her, including the Science Labs and the Med Bay. She had, of course, already studied the Enterprise schematics before coming on board, but she followed patiently as the Captain led her from deck to deck.

Kirk's pride in his vessel was obvious, as he pointed out the areas where Vanessa would be spending most of her time while on duty, as well as some of the areas the crew enjoyed in their off-duty hours. While she attempted to keep a polite smile on her face, Vanessa soon found herself wondering when she could get back to the bridge. There was something about being in Jim Kirk's presence that was a little bit…. unsettling. _And for good reason_, she thought.

Roughly fifteen minutes into the tour, Vanessa found herself walking through one of the crew recreation rooms, only vaguely listening to Kirk's ongoing narration. She tried to tune in with one ear while simultaneously directing the bulk of her attention to running through a mental checklist of tasks she wanted to accomplish.

"We do encourage the crew to pursue their own hobbies and interests as time allows," Kirk was saying, motioning to the half-dozen off-duty crew members scattered about the room, engaged in various forms of physical activity.

"Yes, I see," she replied, distractedly.

"And we do occasionally facilitate ship-wide gatherings to… improve morale, so to speak," he continued.

"Of course," Vanessa replied, trying to appear engaged.

"And there's the annual Jell-o wrestling tournament, which I assume you'll be signing up for," Kirk added, trying to hide a smile.

"Sounds great," she replied, her mind still elsewhere.

A half-moment later, his words registered in her brain and she stopped in her tracks. Vanessa frowned, annoyed and somewhat embarrassed that she had been called out for her lack of attention. As she met the Captain's amused gaze, her frown deepened.

"Is something wrong, Commander?" Kirk asked, leaning in closer to her. A bit too close, perhaps. But Vanessa willed herself not to step back.

"Not at all, sir," she replied, somewhat stiffly. "My apologies for my inattention. I was attempting to multitask and was clearly unsuccessful." Vanessa hoped she didn't look as uncomfortable as she felt right then.

Kirk paused and studied the dark-haired woman's face for several long seconds. Finally, he spoke. "You don't like me, do you, Bennett?"

Vanessa was surprised at his directness, but she struggled to keep her face impassive. "I don't know you, sir," she told him calmly, meeting his gaze. "I only know of your… reputation. I reserve all judgment of a man's character until such time as he either proves or disproves that standing on his own merit." She held her chin up, defiantly.

For a moment, the pair stood looking silently at each other, each issuing an unspoken challenge – although what that challenge was, neither party was certain.

Suddenly, a wry half-smile worked its way across the Captain's face. "You even sound like him," he said shaking his head.

"Like who, sir?" Vanessa asked, genuinely confused.

But Kirk just shook his head again and turned toward the rec room's exit. "I think we can wrap things up now. I'll bet you're pretty eager to get back to work." Vanessa stared at Kirk's back, confused, as she followed him back out into the ship's winding hallway.

She was relieved when the tour ended shortly thereafter, and the two made their way back to the bridge. If she had observed Kirk's face as they rode the turbolift back to the heart of the Enterprise, she would have seen a mixture of curiosity, frustration, and even a bit of wariness as he considered the woman in his current company.

Commander Bennett spent another hour or so at her station on the bridge, reviewing the most recent utilization patterns for the ship's power grid. Alpha shift ended soon after that, so she left the bridge and headed to her new quarters, after first stopping in Science Lab 2 to make sure the equipment she had brought on board had been safely stowed away. She wanted to check on her medical equipment in the Med Bay as well, but figured she could do that later that evening.

Now lying back on her bed, her stomach growled loudly and insistently. In all the excitement of her day, she had neglected to eat anything since early that morning. _Better grab some food_, she thought, retrieving her previously discarded boots.

Now if she could only remember where they feed people around here….

* * *

Inside the Enterprise's crowded mess hall, hundreds of crew members rushed to find a few minutes to eat before their next task or shift called them to duty.

Dr. McCoy sat alone at a table, half-heartedly picking at what was purportedly chicken and rice, while reading from a medical journal on his PADD. He was quite absorbed in his reading and barely looked up when Scotty and Sulu sat down next to him with their own trays of food.

"Evening, Doctor" Scotty greeted him. "What's the good news from the topside of the Enterprise today?"

But before he could answer, Sulu piped in. "Well, I missed meeting our new Operations Chief. I was stuck down in Tactical today training a group of particularly inept crew members."

"Ah, yes, the new second officer. She's stealing your spot, Mr. Sulu!" Scotty teased.

Sulu rolled his eyes at this, but being knocked down a peg on the chain of command did bother him. He would never admit it to anyone, but he felt the slight all the same. While both Scotty and Dr. McCoy technically outranked Sulu, Captain Kirk had long ago designated the Lieutenant as the Enterprise's third-in-command since he was the bridge officer with the next highest seniority. Not to mention, he had proved his ability on more than one occasion when Kirk, flaunting Starfleet directives, left the ship to accompany Spock on an away mission. Deep down, Sulu harbored a growing desire to one day command his own vessel, but that was an aspiration he shared with few souls on the Enterprise - with the exception of his good friend, Pavel Chekov.

"Yes, I met her briefly when she came on board," McCoy said, trying to read and hold a conversation at the same time. "Jim roped me into being part of the welcoming committee."

"So, what's she like?" Sulu asked, eager to judge the qualifications of the officer who was now directly ahead of him in the chain of command.

"I don't know. I didn't stick around to chat. I'll be working with her in the Med Bay on some research at some point, so I guess I'll find out. I'm sure you'll get a turn to babysit her as well when she makes her rounds in Engineering," McCoy said with a nod to Scotty.

"It does seem a bit odd that Starfleet suddenly wants an Operations Officer to stick her nose in every department's business. I mean, aren't we doing a good enough job as it is?" Scotty wondered. "It's almost like the Admiralty doesn't trust us."

"Yeah, that was my thought as well," Sulu added, poking at his meal. "I don't think anyone's too thrilled about this."

McCoy shrugged. "Well, as long as she stays out of my hair and doesn't try to muck things up when I'm trying to keep all of you from permanently injuring yourselves, she can poke around as much as she wants."

"Speak for yourself. I don't want a crotchety old operations officer breathing down my neck all day long," Scotty said, waving his fork in the air.

McCoy snorted. "Hardly." He said it more to himself than anything.

Scotty's interested was piqued. "Ah, so are you saying she's not a crusty old bureaucrat? I find it hard to believe Starfleet reached deep into its secret pocket of good-looking female senior officers and sent one our way. Where have they been keeping them all these years?"

McCoy tried to change the subject. "Doctor Bennett is fully qualified, I'm sure. From what I hear, she earned a medal of honor for helping to save the crew of the _Ulysses_ after it was attacked by Klingons."

Scotty persisted. "Aye, but what does she look like?" he asked, shoveling a forkful of alleged lasagna into his mouth.

"She's human. And she appeared to have all of her arms and legs, if that's what you mean," McCoy said, being deliberately obtuse.

"Chekov said she was good-looking," Sulu interjected. "For an older woman, of course. Well, older than him, anyways."

Scotty sat up straighter as he swallowed his mouthful of food. "Well, she sounds like she's right up my alley," he joked, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. "So can you confirm Chekov's analysis? I need a sound medical opinion. What's your diagnosis, Doctor?"

McCoy sighed. Sometimes he wondered how he survived on this ship of infants. "I suppose she's not completely hideous," he said, turning back to his PADD and hoping they would change the subject soon.

Scotty and Sulu both laughed as Scotty pounded the table with his palm. "Not completely hideous? Aye, that's quite a compliment coming from you, Doctor." He turned and jabbed Sulu in the shoulder with his finger. "You hear that? The Enterprise's new second officer is not completely hideous. She's only half hideous!" Scotty and Sulu dissolved into laughter.

"Okay children, enough," McCoy warned, his patience growing thin.

Scotty tried to arrange his features in a serious expression. "I'm just joshing with you. I'm sure she's a nice lass." He paused to spear a few rubbery green beans with his fork. "It would just be nice to have a few new pretty faces around here."

Sulu smirked. "Yeah, because when danger strikes and you're facing an angry Klingon with a razor-sharp bat'leth at your neck, what really matters is that your fellow officer has a pretty face. Who needs combat skills, technical knowledge, or diplomatic abilities, right?" He looked pointedly at Scotty.

Scotty looked a bit sheepish. "I know, laddie. Of course we want only the most talented and capable recruits to keep the Enterprise running." He paused. "But if they can help it at all, they really ought to be at least somewhat attractive." He smiled to show he was joking – mostly.

Sulu raised his glass to toast Scotty. "I'll drink to that!" he said.

McCoy rolled his eyes.

* * *

Walking purposefully back to her quarters, Commander Bennett felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

She had walked into the mess hall just a few minutes ago, and immediately felt like it was her first day at a new school. Everyone had already gathered into their cliques, and she was the odd man out. But when her gaze fell on Dr. McCoy sitting with what appeared to be two other officers, she felt relieved. Eating with anyone, even someone as grumpy as McCoy seemed to be, would be better than sitting alone on her first day. She was making her way over to the table, trying to fight the slight nervousness in her stomach, when snippets of the trio's conversation, spoken in a loud Scottish accent by the red-shirted officer, reached her ears.

"New second officer… completely hideous…. she's only half-hideous!" followed by their laughter. She froze, and then quickly turned around and walked right back out of the mess hall.

_Jesus. This place really was like high school. _

Vanessa couldn't understand what was so hideous about her that her fellow officers, people who she was supposed to trust with her life, would find amusing. As she walked the ship's hallways, she self-consciously put her hand to her head, patting her hair to make sure nothing was out of place. She looked down at her uniform– everything was as it should be, with no body parts showing that shouldn't be. Had she been walking around all day with food stuck in her teeth or with something on her face?

But by the time she got back to her quarters and confirmed with a quick glance in the mirror that she presented the same, orderly appearance she always did, her shame had been replaced by anger. Why was she being judged or talked about based on how she looked? She was here because of her stellar academic background, extensive experience in the field, and exemplary service record. Admiral Davison had confirmed as much when she informed Vanessa of her new post just a few weeks ago.

She should have walked right up to the table of laughing officers and asked in a calm voice if she could join them, leaving them to choke on their words. Now why didn't she think of that in the moment? On the _Ulysses_, she had taken control of the ship after Captain Metcalf and First Officer Risa were killed, helped navigate the damaged ship to a safe landing on the planet below, and saved nearly 200 lives. Yet she was sent running by a few immature comments overheard in a crowded room. She felt unbalanced and desperately wanted to regain her footing.

For a moment, Vanessa couldn't help but feel like she was a teenager again – a shy, bookish cadet in her first days at the Academy, struggling with homesickness and difficulty making new friends. She quickly pushed those uncomfortable feelings away and reminded herself that she wasn't that person anymore. She was a highly accomplished Starfleet officer, and a damn good medical scientist.

She knew the next day she would be meeting the entire senior command team at the briefing at 0800, her first official day of duties. She would just have to make sure she was on her game and that her competency was never questioned by the Captain or by anyone else.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit lonely. Adjusting to a new ship and a new crew was never easy, especially for someone like her that had to fight against her introvert tendencies. Each ship had its own rhythm, its own cadence - much like a heartbeat - and she just had to put her finger on the pulse of the Enterprise to figure out how to best fit in.

Vanessa figured the task might be more challenging this time around. She knew there might be more than a few noses pulled out of joint at her rushed insertion into a new senior command position. But she would make the Enterprise her home. Jim Kirk and his crew would just have to learn to live with her presence here.

Her appetite suddenly abated, she pulled up a photo image on her PADD and curled into her bed with the device close to her face. Vanessa focused on the image of the blond, smiling man. It was amazing how much seeing him still hurt. After a few minutes, she hugged the device to her chest as she felt a single tear slowly slide down her cheek and onto the soft bedding beneath her.


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, faved, or followed my story so far - I am deeply appreciative! And to answer your question, yes, there will be a pairing - more than one, in fact. But that won't come into play until much deeper into the story. And I won't reveal with who - you'll just have to keep reading to find out! _**

****Story Progress: 7%**

* * *

The next morning, the ship's senior officers gathered in the briefing room a few minutes early. By some unspoken code, the crew seemed to know it was their chance to share their initial impressions of the Enterprise's new second officer before the meeting's official start when the officer in question would join them.

Spock walked into the briefing room at 0750, as he typically liked to arrive a few minutes early to mentally prepare himself for any mission briefing. He observed that every other senior officer, excepting the Captain and Commander Bennett, was already present and seemed to be deep in conversation. He noted that it was an unusual occurrence for everyone to arrive before him for such a briefing.

"Well, I heard she fought off the Klingons when they attacked the _Ulysses_ and then crash-landed the ship on Triton Minor under practically no engine power," Chekov noted, eager to approve of the new Operations Chief.

"Well, it's not really that hard if you calculate the correct angle for re-entry and get enough lift to carry you before you enter the atmosphere," Sulu sniffed, almost annoyed that his young comrade would praise someone else's piloting skills before his own.

"I see she managed to get her hands on a men's uniform instead of these stylish and ultra-practical mini-dresses," Uhura said, with more than a touch of sarcasm, her hands gesturing toward her attire. "I wasn't aware that senior officers had a choice."

Seeing that he had something to add to the conversation, Spock spoke up. "I believe Commander Bennett has been instrumental in the ongoing effort to revise Starfleet dress code for female enlistees. I read her proposal to the Admiralty regarding the different modes of dress required by sex. She accused the Board of adhering to regressive, 21st century gender roles and chastised Starfleet for perpetuating an oppressive, patriarchal culture for female recruits."

"Boy, she sounds fun," McCoy said with a smirk.

"Doctor, I believe the Commander presents a valid argument," Spock countered. "There is no functional nor aesthetic benefit to the separate mode of dress Starfleet requires for male and female service members."

"I'm just mad I didn't think of it first," Uhura said with a wry smile. "Think of all the time I've wasted trying to make sure I wasn't flashing anyone while on duty."

Spock frowned inwardly as the officers chuckled. He preferred that the crew not entertain any mental images of Lt. Uhura and her underclothes.

Just then, the doors to the briefing room slid open and Captain Kirk and Commander Bennett stepped inside. The crew rose from their chairs to greet their captain. "At ease, gentlemen… and lady," Kirk said with a smile, winking at Uhura.

Spock's inner frown deepened.

As the crew settled back down into their seats, Vanessa scanned the room. She mentally noted Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy, whom she had met when she had first boarded the Enterprise. She also recognized Lt. Uhura, the ship's Chief Communications Officer, having been introduced to her the previous day on the bridge. Next to her was the young navigator with the Russian accent whose name was escaping her at the moment. To his left was an Asian man in his early 30s who she assumed was Lt. Sulu. As her gaze fell on the last person in the room, Vanessa's eyes narrowed. Sitting at the far end of the table was the loud Scottish interloper from the mess hall last night.

_Game on_, she thought.

As Captain Kirk introduced her again to the rest of the team, she mentally readied herself. When he got to the Scotsman in the red shirt, Kirk turned to her and said, "Commander, this is our Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, or Scotty as we like to call him."

Scotty reached out and took her hand in both of his and pumped them up and down in greeting. He smiled with genuine pleasure. "Dr. Bennett, 'tis a pleasure to have you with us. I hope you are finding the Enterprise to your liking."

"Why, yes, Mr. Scott," she replied. "After seeing the Enterprise, my previous command, the _Ulysses_, hardly measures up. In comparison, one could almost say she's….. half-hideous." She put what she hoped was an innocent smile on her face.

Scotty's face turned bright red and his mouth dropped open. He stuttered as he tried to get words from his brain down to his mouth. Further down the table, Sulu dropped his eyes in embarrassment, staring intently at his lap.

_Shit_, McCoy thought.

Vanessa turned away from the still wide-mouthed Scot and took her seat at the table. She motioned to Kirk to begin the briefing. "Thank you for the warm welcome, Captain. Please proceed." She settled back into her chair, satisfied. Her sense of balance had been restored.

Spock noted the exchange with interest. Commander Bennett and Mr. Scott appeared to have had a previous interaction that held some degree of discomfort for at least one of them. _Curious._

Kirk noticed the exchange as well, but quickly wiped the confused look from his face and gathered his thoughts. He coughed and took his own seat at the head of the table. "Well, we're glad to have you, Commander. Now, on to the business at hand."

Kirk's fingers flew across the console at his seat and a stellar map appeared on the viewscreen positioned on the room's largest wall. The view quickly zoomed in on the planetoid Kasius, its azure blue gaseous surface standing in stark contrast to the smaller grey, rocky sphere in orbit around it.

"As you all know, the Enterprise was recently witness to a rather singular event. The largest moon orbiting the planetoid Kasius was destroyed by an unknown force a few weeks ago," Kirk announced to the room. "Starfleet has ordered the _U.S.S. California_ to take over formal investigation of the anomaly. I've already ordered our sensor logs be transmitted to Captain Rodriguez so her science teams can get up to speed."

Kirk paused and studied the faces of the individuals seated around him. "While the Enterprise isn't officially tasked with further study of the incident, I've asked Dr. Marcus to run some tests on some of the inorganic material we secured at the site. She believes she should be able to identify the origin of some of the wreckage, which could give us at least some idea of what happened down there."

Vanessa shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Sir, the debris is…. still aboard?"

Kirk looked at the woman with interest. So apparently she knew that his orders were to offload the debris they had collected at Kasius. "That's correct, Commander. I've decided to give our science teams a little more time to gather some data before we go ejecting it back out into space."

Kirk shot his new second officer a pointed look. "That won't be a problem, will it, Doctor?"

Vanessa paused. "No, sir," she said, slowly. _Jim Kirk didn't like to follow the rules. Isn't that exactly what Admiral Davison warned her about?_

"Good," Kirk said, turning back to his display. "Now, the really interesting thing…."

Suddenly, the doors to the briefing room slid open and a rather harried-looking Carol Marcus rushed in. In her arms, she cradled what appeared to be a burned, twisted piece of metal, measuring roughly half a meter long and equally as wide.

"Carol, nice of you to join us," Kirk noted, slightly annoyed at the disturbance. "Please welcome our new Operations Chief, Commander Vanessa Bennett." He nodded to the newcomer.

Carol appeared quite frazzled as she spoke. "Captain, I just found out…. I'm sorry. It's nice to meet you, Commander," she said, whipping her blond head around to nod at the new second officer. She quickly turned back to face Kirk.

"Captain, I just finished running a diagnostic on some of the debris specimens we brought on board after the Kasian moon was destroyed," Dr. Marcus continued, somewhat breathlessly. "We encountered trace amounts of an unstable, primordial isotope present in many of our samples. After extensive analysis, we managed to positively identify the element."

Carol paused for effect before continuing. "It's thoranium," she declared.

Kirk immediately grasped the significance of this revelation. "Are you positive, Doctor?" he asked, feeling his stomach drop.

"Yes, Captain, I'm certain," Carol responded, her face grim.

A look of concern crossed Uhura's face. "I thought thoranium mining had been banned decades ago," she said.

"That is correct, Lieutentant," Spock replied. "Thoranium extraction and experimentation was banned by the Federation nearly 30 years ago. The isotope is characterized by a highly radioactive and exceedingly unstable atomic structure. It was hypothesized that thoranium could represent one of the most powerful sources of destructive energy in the known universe, if only the element's power could be adequately controlled."

"And dozens of scientists were killed attempting to do just that," Uhura added with a frown.

"Affirmative," Spock confirmed with a nod. "Which was a primary factor in the Federation's decision to outlaw further efforts to that end."

"Doctor Marcus, did you detect any traces of stabilizing elements such as cardonium or radiscus in conjunction with the thoranium?" Vanessa asked, a thoughtful look on her face.

Carol nodded, understanding exactly what Vanessa was trying to ascertain. "Yes, we did," Carol replied. "We detected a faint cardonium signature in our molecular scans."

"So that means that the thoranium was not naturally occurring," Chekov interjected excitedly. "Someone was trying to harness or…. manipulate the isotope by using cardonium as a stabilizing agent."

"Exactly," Carol confirmed with a nod.

"So, logically it follows that the moon's destruction was not a naturally occurring event," Spock concluded, turning his head to address the whole table. "We must consider that this may have been an attempt to weaponize the thoranium in question."

"Except the atomic reaction couldn't be controlled and quickly got out of hand, which our sensors picked up," Carol added.

"And that reaction ended up destroying the entire moon in the process," Scotty finished.

"An experiment gone wrong," Kirk surmised, frowning.

McCoy exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair. "So some madman's tinkering with a contraband energy source that could potentially wipe out a whole planet," he said, shaking his head. "I don't suppose we have any idea who's behind this, do we?"

"Actually, Doctor, we do," Carol replied. With a dramatic flourish, she stepped forward and dropped the object she was carrying onto the table. It landed with a loud _thunk_ that echoed throughout the room.

"We ran a microstructural analysis on some of the larger inorganic debris like this piece here, and we were able to identify its manufacturing source," Carol continued. "This is of Amarilian origin."

"Amarilian?" Sulu repeated, frowning. "I've never even heard of them." His confusion was reflected in the faces of almost every other officer in the room.

But Spock could always be counted upon. "The Amarilian home planet of Amarius Prime was destroyed several hundred Earth years ago when the planet's primary sun exploded in a supernova event," the Vulcan informed his crewmates.

Spock deftly passed his hand over the table in front of him to activate the control console linked within. A glowing keypad sprung to life within the table's surface, awaiting its orders. With a few quick movements, he called up the relevant information. The room's central viewscreen shifted from the stellar view of Kasius and its now defunct moon to an image of a tall, grey-skinned humanoid creature. The slender being had a long, narrow face, an even longer neck, and two large, wide-set dark eyes with no noticeable pupils. Three delicate, slender appendages stood in for fingers and toes at the end of the creature's elongated arms and legs.

"Amarilians were widely believed to be extinct, until the discovery of a small encampment on Mitus Three, which lies in the Ismarus system, deep in the Beta Quadrant," Spock continued his narration. "The species are quite insular and have cordially refused numerous offers to join the Federation. However, they are known to be a highly advanced race and are believed to have made formidable scientific and medical advancements."

Spock leaned forward in his chair and intertwined his fingers together on the table. "There is one more piece of information regarding the Amarilians that would seem to be at odds with our recent discovery. The Amarilian race has dedicated itself to furthering scientific knowledge and advancing the lives of their remaining members. As a result, they have foresworn militarized technology or engagements of any sort."

"So why would an endangered, pacifist species be messing with a highly destructive power source in an entirely different quadrant of space?" Sulu asked, his brows furrowing. "That doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't," Kirk answered, the wheels in his mind turning. "Dr. Marcus, are you sure the Amarilians were involved here?"

"Yes, Captain," the blond woman answered with a vigorous nod. "The scans were conclusive. Not to mention, there are few species in the galaxy that possess the scientific capabilities to even attempt something like this. And since the Amarilians are so insular, it's highly unlikely that they would have shared their expertise with any outsiders."

A silence fell across the room as each member of the crew considered the implications of this latest discovery. If a highly technologically-advanced race was attempting to weaponize one of the most destructive elements known to science, the current delicate balance of peace across the entire universe could be shattered.

Kirk turned to the youngest crew member in the room. "Mr. Chekov, how long will it take us to reach the Amarillian encampment at warp 7?"

Pavel Chekov's mind worked quickly to calculate the time required to reach the requested destination. "Approximately 47 days, sir," he beamed, happy to demonstrate his genius.

"Well, that gives us plenty of time to…" Kirk started to say, only to be cut off by his second officer.

"Captain," Vanessa interrupted. "With the _California _taking over investigation of this matter, I fail to see how diverting to the Ismarus system to conduct further analysis falls within our mission parameters."

An uncomfortable silence fell across the room and Vanessa suddenly felt very self-conscious. Clearly, the rest of the crew was used to following Jim Kirk's orders without question, even if those orders didn't always make sense. She couldn't help but notice every pair of eyes in the room staring back at her with a look of surprise - all except one.

"Dr. Bennett brings up a salient point," Spock calmly intoned. "Our orders were to…."

"Spock, we're not disobeying any orders," Kirk interrupted, trying to keep his annoyance in check. "We're just… fulfilling them on a different timeline. The _California_ will conduct its own analysis and in the meantime, we'll attempt to initiate Federation contact with the Amarilians. Our mission is to explore new civilizations and new worlds, and that's exactly what we're doing. " The justification sounded solid, even to Kirk's ears. He fixed his gaze on Commander Bennett, practically daring her to challenge him again.

"Well, I guess I better start brushing up on the Amarilian language," Uhura offered, trying to diffuse the tension that had crept into the room. As much as she had butted heads with Jim Kirk over the years, Uhura didn't appreciate Vanessa's questioning of the Captain's orders. Of course, Spock had expressed similar reservations, but that was his job as First Officer, she rationalized. For some reason, it bothered Uhura that both Vanessa and Spock seemed to be of the same mind on the matter. She couldn't put her finger on why it made her uncomfortable, but it did nonetheless.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kirk replied with a nod. He turned back to his second officer. "Dr. Bennett, I'll need you to work with Mr. Spock and Dr. Marcus on this. We need some answers on what exactly the Amarilians were trying to do on that moon," he ordered. _And the more time she spends on that, the less time she'll spend finding fault with the Enterprise_, he thought.

"Aye, sir," Vanessa said, somewhat hesitantly. She tried to hide her frown, but her reluctance did not escape Kirk's notice.

"Good. And when you start your operational investigations – I'm sorry – your rotations, why don't you start out in Engineering with Scotty," Kirk continued. He could sense the bit of tension between the two and for some sudden reason, he felt like throwing his new second officer into the fire right away.

Vanessa chose to ignore Kirk's pointed jab and turned to look at Scotty, whose face wore a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension.

"Of course. I look forward to working with Mr. Scott," she said, offering the engineer a big smile which she hoped looked just a bit menacing. Judging by the blanch that overtook Scotty's countenance, she felt she had succeeded.

"Mr. Sulu, set a course for the Ismarus system, warp 7." Kirk ordered. "Let's get back to business. And for now…."

Kirk paused for a brief moment. _Better follow that gut feeling._ "Mum's the word on the link between the Kasian moon and the Amarilians," he finished. "We're working under my orders, not Starfleet's. So let's keep this under wraps for now." Kirk finished and stood up from his chair, with a pointed look in Vanessa's direction.

For her part, Vanessa noted that with the possible exception of Commander Spock, none of the other officers appeared to be too bothered by the Captain's directive to continue pursuing the newly-discovered link to the Amarilian species in opposition to Starfleet orders. It appeared the crew was used to following Jim Kirk's instincts all over the galaxy. Well, she would just have to play along for now.

Kirk motioned for the team to be dismissed and they all rose and began filing out of the small room. The Captain walked past his Chief Engineer and clapped him on the back. "Mr. Scott, you look like you could use a drink."

"Aye, Captain," Scotty replied wearily. "That I could."


	5. Chapter 5

****Story Progress: 9%**

* * *

As the _Enterprise_ made its way to the Amarilian encampment in the Beta Quadrant, Vanessa Bennett spent the next few weeks settling into her daily routine. Although Captain Kirk had ordered her to devote time to examining the data from the Kasian moon encounter, she knew she couldn't neglect her regular duties, which included gaining a full understanding of how efficiently each major area on the ship was operating. She began her initial day-long rotations through the various operational areas, including Engineering, Medical, Tactical, and Science. This would be followed by more in-depth study in the coming weeks and months.

When she arrived in Engineering on the first day of her initial study, she couldn't help but notice that the activity level in the room seemed to suddenly pick up as she entered. Looking around, every crew member suddenly seemed very busy and overly intent on whatever task was at hand. It was almost a little comical. She figured the crew had probably been informed that she was here, in part, to evaluate their work, and they were certainly going to be on their best behavior.

Scotty quickly hurried up to meet her. He looked more than a little bit agitated, even for someone tasked with keeping a highly volatile and potentially deadly power source from acting up and killing them all.

"Commander, welcome to Engineering. We're glad to have you here," Scotty told her through his nervousness. Vanessa nodded to acknowledge his greeting, although she knew gladness was probably not what the man was feeling at the moment.

But Scotty was a good guide, and after just a half an hour spent in his company, it was clear he was an even better engineer. His understanding of warp theory and the _Enterprise's_ inner workings was truly impressive. She had to admit Montgomery Scott was one of the most talented engineers she had ever come across in Starfleet. And it was equally obvious that he was a dedicated officer who showed a singular concern for those under his command. Vanessa almost started to feel bad for trying to embarrass him at the mission briefing.

_Oh well. What's done is done_, she thought.

Her initial day in the Medical Bay was a bit more stressful. Within the first few minutes of her walking into the Med Bay, Dr. McCoy took her aside, looked at her pointedly and said, "Look, I don't know why you're here and what you're looking to find on the _Enterprise_, and I don't really care. I'll cooperate and answer all of your questions and show you anything you want to see, but don't forget one thing – this is my Med Bay and in here, I'm in charge. So don't get in my way. Got it?"

Vanessa was taken aback, but managed to maintain her composure. "Understood, doctor," she said, icily. "I'll make a note of your… cooperation in my report." She half-hoped he interpreted that as a threat. Not that it was within the scope of her duties to recommend that he or anyone else be reprimanded or otherwise dressed down, but he didn't need to know that.

The doctor made good on his word, however, and dutifully walked her through Med Bay operations, including the behind-the-scenes documentation processes and resource management procedures. They were interrupted twice to attend to crew injuries, although thankfully, both were minor. The first was a roughly six-inch laceration to the thoracic region of a careless ensign who slipped and fell nearly two meters down a Jefferies tube; the second was a metatarsal fracture inflicted on Lieutenant Hanson by an errant kick during a game of Terran soccer in one of the ship's recreation rooms.

Vanessa requested that she assist Dr. McCoy in closing the laceration and setting the broken bone. She was always eager to exercise her medical skills when the need arose. While she had completed her PhD in Astrophysics over a decade ago, she had only been studying medicine for about eight years, so she looked for any opportunity she could to keep in practice.

McCoy watched her carefully at first to make sure she knew what she was doing, ready to point out mistakes and bark corrections as he usually did to his staff. He only relaxed when he saw that she was, in fact, a competent medical professional and was not in need of direction. Even so, Vanessa was quite eager to make an exit from the Med Bay at the end of her shift that day.

There were fewer issues in her first visit to Tactical, with the exception of the usual sudden scuffling around when she walked into a room and everyone suddenly looking very busy and absorbed in their current task, even if it was just monitoring output from the weapons depot. She was starting to wonder if anyone on the _Enterprise_ would ever feel comfortable with her in the room.

Lt. Sulu would be her liaison for this rotation. For his part, Sulu appeared eager to play tour guide. _Perhaps a bit too eager_, Vanessa silently noted. The Lieutenant had clearly studied up ahead of time, and frequently found a way to work various nuggets of his scientific knowledge into the conversation. Clearly this was a man aiming for a promotion.

"I'd be happy to answer any questions you have at any time," Sulu told her as they were wrapping up their first session. "And I'm sure the rest of the crew would be more than willing to help out as well," he continued, motioning to the dozen crew members scattered around them, visibly hard at work.

Vanessa looked around the room, taking note of how everyone appeared to be making a concerted effort to avoid making eye contact with her. "Sure they would," she muttered.

* * *

Later that evening, Commander Bennett found herself seated at the desk in her quarters, PADD in hand. As she scrolled through the ship's personnel record, she stopped to think, running down the list of senior command staff and making a quick mental inventory based on her observations so far:

Captain James Kirk – Immature playboy with lingering daddy issues and a possible death wish.

Commander Spock – Highly intelligent and eminently methodical; better qualified to run the _Enterprise_ than Kirk.

Dr. Leonard McCoy – Brilliant surgeon with a terrible bedside manner and possible anger management issues. Potential signs of alcoholism.

Lt. Montgomery Scott – Incredible grasp of warp theory and engineering schematics. Perhaps a bit excitable at times, but a truly competent engineer.

Lt. Nyota Uhura – Unmatched linguistic abilities. Somewhat hard-nosed and clearly used to being the focus of male attention amongst the senior command team.

Lt. Hikaru Sulu – Talented helmsman and impressive tactical abilities. Suspected resentment over his talents not being more fully utilized on the _Enterprise_.

Dr. Carol Marcus – Intelligent, well-learned scientist, but a bit "soft" for a senior officer. Potential lingering emotional issues (guilt, insecurity) as a result of her father's role in the Khan incident.

Ensign Pavel Chekov – Genius-level intelligence that is being wasted in the navigator position. Still young and somewhat inexperienced, but may have one of the quickest minds on the ship, excepting Spock.

She wanted to hold off on making any final assessments before she had a more extended time frame in which to evaluate the command team, but she felt she was usually pretty good at sizing people up right away. Vanessa paused and grimaced as she considered what the officers in question might be thinking about her. She had a pretty good idea.

Commander Bennett prided herself on being a consummate professional, and she felt she had more than earned her place on the_ Enterprise_, as well as the commendations she had collected over the years. She was one of only a handful of members of Starfleet with both a medical and a terminal science degree, and she had worked hard over the years to earn the respect of her fellow crew mates, wherever she was stationed.

But she had to admit that as much as she excelled in the technical and analytical skills and even the command presence required for her position, she was a bit lacking when it came to her off-duty people skills. She didn't make friends easily and she always took longer than she liked to feel at home on a new ship. But she was determined to do things differently on the _Enterprise_. Unfortunately, it seemed that her efforts were not generating the anticipated results.

She had made a few attempts to engage some of the senior officers in casual conversation during off-duty hours when she saw them around the ship. But while they were all polite and fully responsive, she couldn't help but feel that they were a bit apprehensive around her. She got the impression the command team was only interacting with her because they had to, not because they wanted to.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed like all of her friendly overtures were met with a few minutes of polite conversation before the officer in question suddenly had to get back to some task or had to run off to attend some suddenly-remembered appointment. Vanessa wondered if they were afraid she was secretly evaluating their every word and action and reporting back to Starfleet Command. She would probably have the same concerns were she in their shoes.

Only Commander Spock treated her with the same courtesy and deference that he showed to every other member of the crew. Vanessa was beyond thankful that she would be working primarily with Spock in her science rotations. She quickly came to the realization that she felt more comfortable with him than she did with most of the other senior officers. In his company, there was no need for pretense and the Vulcan's serene, unflappable manner put her at ease.

_If only the Enterprise were staffed entirely by Vulcans_, she thought. She smiled at the idea of making that a formal recommendation in her progress reports to Starfleet. All the next day, she amused herself by imagining what every crew member she encountered would look like with Vulcanized features.

* * *

Vanessa was leaving one of the science labs on her eighth day aboard the _Enterprise_ when a pleasant-looking, sandy-haired man who appeared to be in his early 30s flagged her down.

"Commander Bennett?" he asked, rushing to meet up with the woman in the hallway.

"Yes," she answered, stopping and turning toward the red-shirt-clad man.

He smiled and stuck out a hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Lieutenant John Michaels, Engineering. I haven't had a chance to meet you yet, so I just wanted to introduce myself."

Vanessa shook Lt. Michaels' hand and nodded to the man. "It's a pleasure, Lieutenant."

"Where are you headed now?" he asked.

"To the Medical Bay to meet with Dr. McCoy," she replied.

"May I walk with you?"

"Certainly."

The two fell into step together.

"Commander, I heard about your efforts on the _Ulysses_. I have to say, that was quite impressive," John said. "I don't know of too many Federation ships that have encountered the Klingons in battle and lived to tell about it."

Vanessa knew he was right. The Klingons had greatly expanded their deep space presence and several Federation starships and outposts had been attacked in the past year. Tensions were running high, and whispers of war ran rampant in many circles.

"Yes, the Klingons present an especially dangerous obstacle for the Federation," she told him as they walked. "It's likely we'll have to engage in significant preparations for future encounters." As she heard herself speak the words, she cringed internally. _You sound like a robot,_ she thought. _Maybe you've spent a little too much time amongst Vulcans._ She quickly added, "Thank you. For the… um, compliment."

John laughed. "Well, I just wanted to make sure I officially welcomed you to the _Enterprise_. I know it's a lot to take in." He paused. "I haven't seen you in the Mess Hall for any meals. I was keeping an eye out for you, hoping to snag an introduction."

Vanessa looked quickly down at the ground. Since the conversation she overheard her first day, she had been avoiding the Mess Hall and taking her meals in her quarters. She knew it wasn't exactly sociable, but she just hadn't felt like running the gauntlet again. It wasn't like anyone was exactly chomping at the bit to socialize with her, anyway.

"Oh. Well, I guess I've just been a bit busy getting used to everything on board," she lied. "You know, lots to do." _Coward_, she thought silently.

John smiled warmly. "Well, if you do happen to find time to eat amongst the commoners, I'd love to introduce you to some of the folks in Engineering. We usually eat together when we can. We're a motley, but fun, group. My girlfriend, Lieutenant Emily Richter, usually joins us. I think you'd really like her."

"Thank you for the invitation, Lieutenant," Vanessa said, a small smile working its way across her face. "I would like that. I think getting to know more of the crew on an off-duty basis is a wonderful idea."

"Great!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Well, thank you for your time, Commander. Maybe we'll see you tomorrow evening after Alpha shift."

"Count on it," she said sincerely.

And with that, Lt. Michaels nodded to her and headed off towards the turbolift, leaving her at the entrance to the Medical Bay.

Vanessa felt her spirits lift a bit. She was surprised at how good just a little bit of unprompted friendliness from a fellow crew member felt. She must have been feeling lonelier than even she would care to admit. She made a mental note to seek out Lt. Michaels' company at the dinner shift the following day. She turned toward the Med Bay, feeling just a bit lighter than she had since coming aboard.

As the doors to the Med Bay slid open, she could hear Dr. McCoy's voice from within, yelling, "I asked for hydrocortilene, not hydrocholromydride! Damn it, woman, are you trying to kill someone?"

Her mood dropped a notch_. Another fun afternoon_, she thought.

* * *

The next day, Vanessa joined Lt. Michaels and his crew from Engineering for dinner. She found them to be a friendly, if somewhat socially awkward, bunch. They passed the meal trading stories of past near-disasters down in Engineering, which alarmed her somewhat. But she found herself gradually warming to the group, even contributing a story or two of her own past exploits to the conversation. She found John especially to be a very kind, amiable man with an innate ability to make others feel comfortable.

She couldn't really say the same for Lt. Emily Richter, John's girlfriend, who also worked in Engineering. She was a strikingly tall woman in her late 20s with short, dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Vanessa noticed that Emily seemed somewhat detached from the rest of the group and rarely smiled. And when she did smile, the movement seemed to require considerable effort. In contrast to John's easy and affable manner, she didn't seem like the friendliest of persons. _But then again, I probably don't either_, Vanessa considered.

After that first meal, Vanessa had the pleasure of eating with John and his comrades on a regular basis, and she soon ended up seeking out John's company whenever she happened in be in the vicinity of Engineering. The two quickly established a comfortable rapport and Vanessa found herself looking forward to the time they spent together.

At any rate, she was glad to have at least one close acquaintance on the ship in John Michaels. At last glance, her friend roster was fairly empty.


	6. Chapter 6

****Story Progress: 11%**

* * *

Jim Kirk looked around him at the stoic faces of the most trusted members of his command team. He observed the intense concentration he himself was channeling reflected back at him from the faces of his inner circle.

The tension in the air was thick, almost palpable.

Kirk's facial muscles tensed. He slowly exhaled a deep breath and straightened his spine. He knew that the decisions that were made in the next few moments could be a matter of life or death for everyone in the room - or at least as much as a game of poker could be quantified as a life-or-death affair.

"Okay, gentlemen," Kirk announced to the three men gathered around the table in his quarters. "It's time to lay it on the line."

McCoy sighed. "I fold," he announced, throwing his handful of cards down on the table with a flick of his wrist.

"I'm in," Sulu said, fighting to keep his features neutral. He had a good feeling about this hand. Not to mention, he was used to being underestimated by the rest of the crew, a fact which he used to his advantage whenever he could.

From behind his fanned-out hand array of cards, Scotty narrowed his eyes. "I'll see your fifty and raise you ten." He tossed two more chips into the small pile in the center of the table where the four men were seated. The Chief Engineer's face remained impassive as Kirk and Sulu met his bet and added their own chips to the pot.

Kirk smiled. "All right, gents. Read 'em and weep." He laid his cards down on the table - a flush. With a smirk, he reached his arms out to claim the pile of chips for his own.

"Argh!" Scotty exclaimed, tossing his losing hand of cards down in disgust.

"Not so fast, Captain," Sulu interjected, with barely suppressed glee. He fanned out his cards on the table. "Full house," he announced, somewhat smugly.

Sulu's triumph was met with a resounding chorus of jeers and boos from the three losing parties. For his part, Sulu merely smiled and gathered up his winnings into a pile in front of him.

"Damn it, Sulu," Kirk complained as he collected the cards scattered around the table. "You must have been practicing your poker face with Spock. It's a good thing he didn't come tonight or the rest of us would really be in trouble."

"You can't play poker with a Vulcan," McCoy noted. "I'm pretty sure they count cards as a matter of course."

"I think he had plans with Uhura anyways," Kirk offered. "Not that he would say so directly, of course, but I'm assuming that's what he meant when he said he had a 'mutually prearranged engagement' this evening."

McCoy shook his head. "I still don't get those two," he muttered. "Nyota could do a lot better than that walking calculator."

"Like who, you?" Scotty teased, poking the doctor in the ribs.

"Sure. Me, or any one of sixty dozen men on this ship," McCoy answered. He pointed his chin in Scotty's direction. "And don't even tell me you wouldn't think about getting involved with her if she happened to have a thing for Scottish engineers."

"I've thought about it," Kirk said with a smirk as he efficiently shuffled the deck.

"Jim, who haven't you thought about?" McCoy fired back.

"True," Kirk admitted. "Although I have to say, Carol's kind of edging out Nyota for first place in the old mental imagery department, if you know what I mean," he added with an exaggerated wag of his eyebrows.

Sulu coughed loudly. "Perhaps we should focus on the game instead of assessing the sexual attributes of the various female crew members _under your command_, Captain." He shot a pointed look in Kirk's direction.

Kirk sighed. "Yes, sir, Captain Sulu," he responded as he began dealing cards for another round of play. "You know, sometimes I feel like if I'm not careful, you're going to steal command of the _Enterprise_ right out from under me one of these days."

Sulu tried to hide the smile working its way across his face. "That reminds me, Captain," he said, straightening his posture. "Has there been any word on the First Officer position aboard the _U.S.S._ _Stanton_?"

"Oh come on," Kirk said. "The deal is that we don't talk about work during poker time." He paused to finish dealing the next round. "And besides, you don't really want to leave the _Enterprise_, do you? You expect me to give up one of the best pilots in the fleet?"

"Other ships need good pilots, too," Sulu countered, rearranging his hand of cards. "And good first officers," he added, emphasizing the last two words.

"All in good time," Kirk reassured him. "But if it helps your decision, you won't improve the scenery by going anywhere else. I've made sure the most attractive recruits are all here on the _Enterprise_."

McCoy snickered. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"I'm sorry I haven't taken advantage of those…. resources," Sulu replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

"You're not the only one, laddie," Scotty said with a laugh as he rose to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Well, there's no regulation against you dating anyone not under your direct command," Kirk told him as he lifted his own glass to his lips. "And if you're looking for an excuse not to get involved with someone on board, you're not going to get it from me."

"Aye," Scotty said with a sigh as he absentmindedly swirled the liquid in his glass. "Maybe it's about time I did something about that." It had been a long time since the engineer had been physically involved with any woman, and even longer since he had seriously dated anyone. When your first priority was making sure that Starfleet's flagship was in tip-top shape, there wasn't a whole lot of time to focus on your dating life. _But maybe I need to make time,_ Scotty thought to himself.

"What about Lt. Waters down your way," McCoy asked, tossing the last drop of his bourbon down the back of his throat.

"Is she the redhead from Deneb IV?" Kirk asked, trying to put a face to the name.

"No, that's Ensign Platt and she's from Deneb V," Scotty corrected.

"Lieutenant Waters is the blonde from Texas," McCoy informed them. "She's quite the looker, but then again, I am partial to fellow Southerners."

"Wait a minute," Sulu exclaimed. "How did we get back to the sex talk again?"

"Well, lad, if we can't talk about work and we can't talk about sex, what else is there for four grown men to talk about?" Scotty asked.

Silence fell as each member of the group racked his brains for another topic of conversation. None was forthcoming.

"So you and Lt. Waters – should I make that happen?" Kirk asked Scotty.

Sulu groaned and shook his head. He figured he should change the topic of conversation now, as he knew from previous experience that things would only go downhill as the night progressed and the liquor flowed more freely. "So how much longer until we reach the Ismarus system?" Sulu asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Fourteen more days," Kirk answered as he tossed another chip into the center of the table. If he was being honest, that was fourteen days too many. Since the mission briefing, Kirk had been itching to get to the Amarilian encampment and hopefully get some answers as to what the Amarilians, or at least their technology, had been doing on that moon. And why would an allegedly peaceful race be meddling with something as powerful and dangerous as thoranium? Were they running experiments elsewhere in the galaxy? There were a lot of questions Kirk wanted answered, and he didn't like having to wait for a resolution.

"I know I'm eager to get to the bottom of this, even if Starfleet doesn't want us involved," Kirk told the group. "Of course, that's assuming our new second officer hasn't already blown us in," he added with a small frown.

"Jim, you can't be too happy about her being here to evaluate how we run things on the _Enterprise_," Scotty said, gesturing to his captain to deal him another card.

Kirk shrugged as he tossed a card Scotty's way. "Commander Bennett is still under my command. We can give her enough to keep her busy and out of everyone's hair."

"She's very…." Sulu paused, looking for a tactfully way to phrase his observations. "She's very serious," he decided. In fact, just yesterday, Sulu had run into Vanessa in the ship's gym as he was leaving and she was arriving. To his surprise, she had actually tried to engage him in small talk. Her intentions seemed genuine enough, but Sulu still felt a bit uncomfortable talking to her, although he wasn't exactly sure why. He had quickly excused himself from her company, citing a prior obligation, although he did feel a bit guilty about it.

"I guess, to be honest, she's a bit intimidating," Sulu admitted. "But I guess it's still early. None of us really know her that well."

Scotty considered this. "Well, if nothing else, at least she's a smart lass. The _Enterprise_ is lucky to have someone with both advanced scientific and medical training on board. That's a rare combination."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, she's a jack of all trades and a master of none."

Kirk smiled at his friend. "Worried about a little competition for your CMO position, Bones?"

"Hardly," McCoy replied, rolling his eyes. He knew he was unquestionably a more talented medical professional than Vanessa Bennett would ever be. She was intelligent and very competent, but McCoy certainly didn't lose any sleep worrying that she was going to upstage him.

"Well, she's got a bug up her ass about me, that's for sure," Kirk admitted. "I don't know why. Women usually love me," he added with a smile.

"Wait a minute," McCoy said, giving his friend a sharp glance. "Did you sleep with her years ago and now you've totally forgotten about it? It wouldn't be the first time."

Kirk pretended to be thoughtful for a few seconds. "No, I'm pretty sure I've never slept with her," he joked. "At least I think so."

"Jim, you're such a dog," Scotty said, shaking his head.

Kirk replied by barking at his Chief Engineer.

"And back to the sex talk again," Sulu noted with a grin on his face.

"Hey, we're only human," Kirk countered. "And I believe this round goes to me," he continued, laying out his winning hand on the table.

The rest of the evening passed agreeably, the quartet content to revel in their game, libations, and easy conversation. But while Jim Kirk's outward appearance showed every indication of merriment and good humor, his inner monologue was somewhat more troubled. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was… off. The destruction of the Kasian moon and the Amarilians and his orders from Starfleet and even Commander Bennett's presence on the _Enterprise_ – the pieces just didn't fit together in Kirk's mind. And that bothered him.

As he shuffled the deck of cards for another round, Kirk admitted to himself that he wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he vowed he would find out - one way or another.


	7. Chapter 7

****Story Progress: 13%**

* * *

"Has the sequencing from Trial 19A been completed?"

"Affirmative, Commander. Results were within expected tolerance bands."

"Let me run the spectral analysis again, this time adjusting for any transverse wave distortion."

Spock looked up from his display and observed the dark-haired woman standing across from him in Science Lab 3. Vanessa Bennett's face was a picture of concentration as she stared intently at the display screen in front of her, her fingers flying rapidly over her console, programming the next sequence.

Per the Captain's instructions, Spock and Vanessa had been spending a significant portion of their time together, occasionally joined by Carol Marcus, analyzing the data from the Kasian moon incident. The pair frequently collaborated while on the bridge, and on occasion found themselves carrying their work over into one of the science labs late into the evening, as they were at the present moment.

It was not, perhaps, an easy task for any individual to impress Commander Spock with his or her knowledge or aptitude, but the Vulcan felt Vanessa Bennett had earned that distinction. In the few short weeks of their acquaintance, Spock had come to view Vanessa as a highly skilled scientist and intensely dedicated Starfleet officer. He had ascertained from discussion with the rest of the senior command team that most found her to be somewhat aloof and impersonal, but he considered her to be an exemplary member of the crew.

Spock had also been intrigued to hear of the Commander's time stationed on his home planet several years prior. It was exceedingly rare to encounter a non-native with such an intimate understanding of the Vulcan culture, and Spock soon found himself anticipating his interactions with Dr. Bennett. On most occasions, their work-related conversation typically lapsed into reminiscences of Vulcan, which Spock found most pleasing. There were so few beings left in the universe that Spock could claim that commonality with that he found the doctor's presence on the Enterprise especially fortuitous.

In fact, just today he had prepared a serving of Vulcan spice tea for the two of them to consume before they commenced their work. Vanessa had previously mentioned that she enjoyed the drink, and Spock concluded that they would both derive satisfaction from partaking in an authentic preparation of the tea, rather than a computer-replicated imitation. He carefully carried the serving tray from his quarters to Science Lab 3, and his expectation of Commander Bennett's delight upon seeing the brew was confirmed.

Now, the depleted serving vessel and two empty cups lay aside, the tea having been consumed amidst the pair's recollections of past enjoyments of the very same drink.

"Okay, that should do it," Vanessa noted, craning her neck to stretch the tired muscles. "It should just take a few minutes to generate the results."

She exhaled tiredly and looked at the Vulcan situated across the room from her. Spock met her gaze.

The room was silent for a few seconds as Vanessa appeared to begin to say something, but after a moment of consideration, seemed to wipe the burgeoning thought from her mind. For his part, Spock observed that this was the third such time she had performed this gesture in the past 54 minutes. He decided to address his observation.

"Doctor, is there a matter you wish to discuss? I sense some degree of unease in your behavior today," Spock noted calmly.

Vanessa studied Spock's countenance for a moment, clearly making an internal calculation. By Spock's count, six seconds ticked by. Then she straightened her spine, her decision made.

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted," Spock replied, his face not betraying the curiosity he felt.

"It's about Captain Kirk," she began slowly. "He is certainly a very charming man, as I am sure everyone who gets within ten feet of him realizes. And he sure isn't a slacker with the ladies." She shook her head, rolling her eyes a bit.

Suddenly, Spock began to feel a certain discomfort with the arc of the conversation. "Commander, if you wish to ascertain if the Captain is romantically involved with anyone, I am afraid I cannot…."

A horrified look crossed the woman's face. "No, no, no! That's not what I'm trying to get at. Not at all! I promise you I have absolutely no intention of becoming another notch on Jim Kirk's bedpost." The sincerity of her expression convinced Spock of the veracity of her words.

She took another breath. "I guess I'm asking…. What I mean to say is…." She paused again.

Vanessa looked Spock square in the eyes and took yet another deep breath in, steadying herself.

"I know Jim Kirk is a friend of yours and I understand you have certain loyalties to him, both personally and professionally. But, let's face it. He's arrogant, he's cocky, and he doesn't respect authority. He's taken this ship and her crew to the brink of disaster more than once, and dozens of crew members have paid with their lives, not to mention the tens of thousands of people in downtown San Francisco…."

Her voice hitched a bit and Spock thought he detected a look of sadness cross her features. But she swallowed hard and the look passed.

She continued, "I don't question Jim Kirk's passion for his command, but frankly, I think he's dangerous. He's a brilliant man, and somehow he's managed to avoid killing everyone under his command so far, but I'm afraid that's more a matter of luck than skill. In truth, I nearly requested reassignment from the Enterprise because I don't fully trust Jim Kirk in the Captain's chair. And I cannot for the life of me figure out why it's not you sitting in that chair instead of him."

Vanessa looked down at the floor before meeting Spock's gaze again. "So, are you going to report me for insubordination?" she asked with a small, but slightly nervous, smile.

Spock's estimation of the new Operations Chief rose several ranks, and not owing to the fact that she had indirectly complimented him in expressing her reservations about the Enterprise's captain. Spock had previously expressed all of these same reservations to Starfleet Command after the incident on Nibiru. Jim Kirk _was_ arrogant, disrespectful, and the casual disdain he showed for violating the Prime Directive in that case was breathtaking.

And yet, even after being rightfully demoted, Kirk had been put back in command of the Enterprise in a matter of days. He always seemed to come out ahead, even in situations that would have ended the career, or the life, of any other man. But he didn't play by the rules, and to Spock's logic-ordered Vulcan mind, that would always be a shortcoming, not to mention a constant point of contention between Captain and First Officer. Jim Kirk was, unquestionably, an unconventional leader, and Spock appreciated that Dr. Bennett saw that clearly, rather than being blinded by his personality as much of Starfleet seemed to be.

It also appeared that his hypothesis regarding Commander Bennett's placement on the ship was accurate. The Admiralty _was_ worried about Captain Kirk creating more problems for Starfleet.

"Commander, I admit that I cannot find fault with your analysis of the Captain," Spock replied. "His management style is… unconventional and has, on occasion, resulted in sub-optimal outcomes. However, I wish to assure you that the Captain would never knowingly endanger the Enterprise or her crew. And while serving under his command has required a certain… adjustment, it is my firm belief that Jim Kirk has the potential to evolve into one of the finest captains in Starfleet."

Spock paused, deep in thought. "In addition, I have found, at times, that the Captain's more impulsive, headstrong manner provides a needed counterpoint to the logical, rational approach all Vulcans espouse."

"So he's kind of the yin to your yang?" Vanessa asked.

"A Chinese philosophical concept which posits that opposite forces are in fact interconnected and interdependent," Spock explained, more to himself than to the doctor. "I believe that metaphor is accurate."

Vanessa looked unconvinced. She paused again, mulling her next words carefully.

"And if you had to choose? If it came down to Jim Kirk or the Enterprise, where are your loyalties? I mean, if Kirk was involved in…. something he shouldn't be…. would you still stand by him?" Her blue eyes gazed intently at the Vulcan's face, scanning for any hint of a reaction.

Spock was now genuinely confused. "Commander, as a Starfleet officer, I am bound to follow the orders given by my Captain. But my duty, first and foremost, is to the oath I took to obey the laws of the United Federation of Planets and to uphold its principles."

Suddenly, a new, disturbing thought made itself known in Spock's brain. "Doctor, do you have information regarding the Captain that you feel would reflect adversely on his ability to command the Enterprise?"

"No, no. Of course not," she replied, somewhat hastily. Spock noted her gaze was suddenly focused on the floor. "I was just speaking in the hypothetical."

Vanessa finally looked up. "My job is to make sure this ship is operating at optimal levels, and that includes considering the safety and well-being of the crew above all else. I just want to make sure that Jim Kirk considers that his top priority as well."

Spock felt there was more to her line of questioning than what she professed, but he did not press the issue. "Commander, I have the utmost faith in Jim Kirk and his dedication to the Enterprise. And if you are not convinced that the crew's safety is of foremost concern to the Captain, let me assure you that it is to me."

Vanessa looked like she wanted to say more, but she shook her head as if to clear a thought from her mind. The look passed and was quickly replaced with a small smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," she replied. "That does set my mind at ease. I am truly appreciative of your expertise, as well as your continued efforts to help me get acquainted with the Enterprise. They have been a bright spot in my short time here."

Spock tilted his head in concern. "Are you finding your duties challenging? I have noted a 3.8% increase in ship-wide efficiency as a result of your recent adjustments to standard operating procedures. And working in tandem on the Kasian data, we have far surpassed the scope of what I could have accomplished alone."

Commander Bennett shook her head ruefully. "No, it's not the technical side of things so much. It's just…." She sighed. "I'm finding the senior officer group a bit of a tough nut to crack. It's hard trying to break in to such a tight-knit group that's already bonded over so much in such a short time."

Spock considered this. "Doctor, as the ship's First Officer, I can speak with the crew and instruct them to more conscientiously consider their interactions with you."

"No, Mr. Spock," she replied, laughing. "You can't force everyone to be my friend. I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. I know it just takes time."

"I have observed that you are frequently in the company of Lieutenant Michaels in Engineering," Spock noted.

Vanessa looked a bit surprised at the remark. "Yes. John's been very welcoming. I really appreciate the effort he's made to be friendly. It's nice to not feel so…. alone."

"I too am conscious of the sensation of solitude," Spock told her. "When Vulcan was destroyed, I ….."

He abruptly stopped mid-sentence. Spock had been on the cusp of mentally revisiting that dark day and had nearly given voice to his feelings of that deepest and most painful of life experiences. But perhaps it was not prudent to share these reflections with the Commander at this particular juncture. Instead, Spock thought it more judicious to refocus on the task at hand.

"Commander Bennett, have we exhausted the parameters of our free-spoken discussion?" he asked, his face perfectly calm.

Vanessa smiled graciously and Spock was certain she understood why he had sought to change the topic of conversation so suddenly.

"Yes, Mr. Spock. Yes we have," she replied.

The duo turned back to their data and continued to work in comfortable silence.

* * *

Later that same evening, after concluding his work with Commander Bennett, Spock walked the corridors of the Enterprise, still running a few potential hypotheses through his mind. After reaching the hallway that housed the senior officers' quarters, he walked past the door to his own room and towards that of Lieutenant Uhura. He punched in the access code for her cabin and the doors swished open.

Nyota Uhura looked up from the display screen on her desk where she was seated and smiled. "Welcome home."

Spock nodded in greeting and set down the tray he had been carrying with the now-empty serving vessel for his tea.

"Was there a tea time I wasn't aware of?" Uhura asked jokingly, taking note of the two empty cups on the tray.

"Yes," Spock replied, efficiently clearing the used dishes. "I prepared a traditional Vulcan spice tea to consume with Commander Bennett, as she had previously indicated her preference for the beverage."

He crossed the room to his companion. "The Enterprise is most fortunate to count Dr. Bennett as its second officer. I have found her scientific acumen and intellectual capacity to be foremost amongst the crew."

Uhura tried to hide her frown. "You sound quite taken with the Commander's abilities. And you've been spending an awful lot of time with her since she got here," she said, absentmindedly tracing an invisible pattern on the surface of the desk with her finger.

Spock paused. His Vulcan mind told him that the Lieutenant was merely stating what he knew to be facts. He did hold Dr. Bennett's capabilities in high esteem and he had spent a significant amount of time in her company analyzing the Kasian data. These facts should not be in question.

But the human part of his mind sounded a warning. In the several years of his relationship with Lt. Uhura, he had learned that human females frequently offered seemingly benign observations when they in fact wished to express a deeper displeasure with the situation at hand.

"Nyota, Commander Bennett is an able officer and I believe she will be a tremendous asset to the Enterprise. My time spent with her, as you know, is in pursuit of answers that will directly affect the success of our current mission. That has been the extent of our interactions."

Uhura stood up, moved over to Spock, and wound her arms around his neck. _Damn, he was handsome, even when he was being a little bit dense._

"I know that. I don't mean to question your motives. It's just a human emotion. A petty, silly human emotion," she said.

"Jealousy?" Spock queried, wrapping his arms around her slim waist.

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. I guess I'm just used to being the Alpha Female on the bridge. It's not logical, I know, but… it's the truth. She just seems so much more comfortable around you than the rest of us." Uhura ran her hands through Spock's dark hair as she spoke.

Spock considered this. "Commander Bennett has expressed that she feels a greater affinity with me than with other members of the crew. But that is likely due to the fact that I have attempted to engage her in conversation and have made a concerted effort to ease her integration to the Enterprise. I do not believe she has received the same courtesy from other members of the senior command team."

Uhura dropped her arms from Spock's neck and turned away from him, feeling a little stab of guilt. Spock was right, as usual. She hadn't really gone out of her way to make the new second officer feel welcome.

In fact, Vanessa had approached her in the mess hall a few days ago after Alpha shift and inquired about the Communications Chief's plans for the evening. Uhura had been running late for a sparring class taught by Lt. Sulu, and so she had rather brusquely provided an explanation before rushing off to her destination. Looking back, Uhura admitted she may have come across as a bit rude during that particular encounter.

"I guess you're right," she admitted. "I forget how difficult it can be on a new ship." She turned back around to face him. "It's all just kind of sudden, her showing up out of nowhere and everything. Look, I'll try to do better. I'll get some girl time with her or something."

Uhura stepped toward him, with a smile on her face. She placed her hands on his chest and looked up into his eyes. "Just don't get too comfortable with her, got it?" she said, in a mock-threatening tone.

The corners of Spock's mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "Lieutenant, if you doubt the extent of my affection for you, perhaps a… physical demonstration would convince you?" He pulled her closer.

"Mmmm… Spock, you read my mind." she whispered, her eyes slowly closing as he leaned in towards her.

As his lips crushed down on hers, Nyota pushed all other thoughts from her mind and let his weight fall heavy on her as they fell back onto the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

****Story Progress: 16%**

* * *

The next morning, Nyota Uhura awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. She had made up her mind to get to know the Enterprise's new second officer on a more personal basis. Spock was right – none of them had really made an effort to socialize with the woman. If Vanessa ended up being an unpleasant person, Uhura wasn't afraid to call a spade a spade, but she figured she had to actually get to know her first to make that judgment.

As she dressed, Uhura sent a brief message to Carol Marcus, enlisting her help in the task. Carol quickly responded in the affirmative, and after a final check in the mirror, Uhura set off towards the bridge at a brisk pace.

As the turbolift doors swished open to reveal the Enterprise's command center, the Communications Chief was once again greeted by the bright luminescence of the room's appointments and the familiar hum of activity. She located Commander Bennett standing near the second science station, nose buried in a PADD.

Vanessa looked up as Uhura approached and nodded briefly in her direction. "Lieutenant," she said, by way of greeting.

Uhura took another step toward the Commander and cleared her throat. Vanessa, a few inches shy of Uhura's height, looked up at her with raised eyebrows.

"Commander, I wondered if you might be available for dinner this evening," Uhura queried. "Doctor Marcus and I were hoping you could join us."

A look of surprise quickly flashed across Vanessa's face before she broke into a spontaneous smile. The woman was clearly pleased, and Uhura noted that the expression softened her features.

"Why, yes, I would like that," Vanessa responded enthusiastically. "Thank you so much."

Her response was so heartfelt and unassuming, Uhura was sorry she hadn't taken the effort sooner. "Excellent. We'll plan on seeing you at 1800 hours if that works for you," she said.

"Perfect. I will see you then, Lieutenant," Vanessa replied, still smiling.

Uhura returned the smile and turned to head toward her station. As she sat down at her post, she glanced over to her right where Spock was already seated, intently working his display. Most casual observers would have missed it, but as she briefly turned to the Vulcan, he nodded his head slightly in her direction.

Uhura knew that meant he had overheard the exchange and was pleased.

And that, in turn, pleased her.

* * *

At precisely 1800 hours that day, Vanessa stepped into the bustling Mess Hall of the Enterprise. She quickly secured a meal and scanned the crowded room for her expected companions. Halfway through her visual sweep of the room, she spotted Uhura's sleek, dark ponytail next to Carol's efficient blonde bob. Carol waved to her, and Vanessa sidestepped a group of rowdy crew members as she made her way over to the table where the two women were seated.

"Commander, it's a pleasure," Carol said in her soft, British accent. She wore a smile as she rose to greet the second officer.

"Please, it's Vanessa," she replied, gesturing for Carol to sit back down. "We're off-duty now."

"We're glad you could join us," Uhura told her from behind her forkful of noodles. "We ladies have to stick together, so I figured we were overdue for a get-together."

Vanessa laughed. "Absolutely. I'm so glad to have the chance to talk with you both." And that was the honest truth. Vanessa had been very pleasantly surprised at the Lieutenant's invitation and had been looking forward to this gathering all day.

"So, how has the Enterprise been treating you?" Uhura asked.

"Oh, quite well," Vanessa answered. "I've been very pleased with the crew's capabilities and of course it's an honor to be stationed on the fleet's flagship."

Uhura smirked. "Okay, that's the official line. Now what do you really think of this place?" She waved her fork around in the air, gesturing at their surroundings.

Vanessa couldn't help but respect Uhura's candor. "Well, to be perfectly honest, it is a bit overwhelming," she admitted. "I've never served on such a large ship before, and I still don't feel completely settled."

"I felt the same way when I first got here," Carol told her, sympathetically. "But eventually everything clicked into place and one day I realized I finally felt like I was home."

Vanessa smiled ruefully at her green beans. "Feeling at home would be nice," she said softly.

"Don't worry, you'll get there," Uhura said, kindly. "After all, we've still got a pretty long journey left ahead of us."

"Yes, we do. So I hope you really like poorly replicated mashed potatoes," Carol added, holding up her fork and letting some of the runny mixture drip off the utensil and back onto her plate below.

"I wouldn't have joined Starfleet if I didn't," Vanessa joked.

As Uhura and Carol laughed in response, Vanessa found herself relaxing and genuinely enjoying the company. And if she wasn't mistaken, she thought the two women sitting across from her were finding the interaction equally as enjoyable.

The conversation flowed easily as they talked about their time in the Academy and their favorite instructors, Vanessa's run-in with the Klingons on the _Ulysses_, the number of languages Uhura spoke, and Carol's thoughts on Starfleet's rapidly escalating militarization. The trio was so engaged in their reverie that over half an hour had passed before any of them thought to check the time.

As the three women worked on the remnants of their meal, the topic of conversation shifted to a young Ensign Bradshaw in Engineering who Uhura was certain had a crush on Carol.

"Carol, just give him a chance," Uhura teased. "I think the poor boy would practically pass out from sheer joy if you agreed to a date."

"Nyota, he's nineteen years old!" Carol exclaimed with a laugh. "That's barely legal in most star systems."

"Well, the younger ones are more easily trainable," Nyota joshed, poking her friend in the ribs.

Carol squirmed away from her playing prodding and turned to address Vanessa. "So, anyone special in your life?" Carol asked, still grinning. "Boyfriend, girlfriend, life partner, husband?"

Vanessa felt the smile freeze on her face. She suddenly felt like she had been punched in the gut. If there was one thing she didn't want to talk about, that was it. _Even after all this time…._

From the look on her companions' faces, she knew her internal emotions must have been evident on her face. She quickly sought to fill the awkward pause that had unfolded around them. _They had no way of knowing._

She waved her hand in the air in what she hoped was a casual manner. "Oh, no one at the moment," she said, trying to keep her face neutral. She found she couldn't quite meet the gaze of either of her companions at that moment.

Carol looked a bit confused, but she didn't press the point. "Well, if you're in the market, the pickings are pretty slim around here. There are almost twice as many men as women on board the Enterprise, so the odds are good, but the goods are odd, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, and just a helpful hint," Uhura added, lowering her voice. "The Captain is a bit of a ladies' man, so don't take any flirting personally."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Vanessa replied. "I've heard all about James T. Kirk and his…. sexual proclivities." _I've heard a lot more about him than that, _she added silently.

"I don't think Jim is all that bad," Carol countered before taking another bite. "He gets a bad rap, but I think there's more to him than just his playboy persona."

Vanessa made a mental note of Carol's generous opinion of the Captain and quickly decided she wouldn't be an appropriate source from which to gather candid information about him in the future.

"Doctor McCoy seems to spend a lot of his time yelling at his staff," Vanessa added. "He always seems to be in some kind of mood."

"That he is, but you won't find a better surgeon in all of Starfleet," Uhura replied.

Vanessa paused for a moment as she pushed some of the leftover chicken around on her plate. "What about Commander Spock? What's his story?"

Uhura suddenly perked up. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, how is it he came to be here? From my time on Vulcan, I know it's practically unheard of for anyone to turn down acceptance to the Vulcan Science Academy. I've spent a lot of time with him lately, but I didn't want to come out and ask him, you know?"

Without waiting for an answer, Vanessa continued. "Although, I have to say, Vulcan's loss is Starfleet's gain. I've been so impressed with Spock. I'd heard he had one of the finest scientific minds in Starfleet, and he's more than lived up to that reputation. He's able to form and test hypotheses and draw out accurate conclusions so rapidly, it's hard even for me to keep up sometimes. His mind is just so… fascinating."

"It's a shame there aren't more Starfleet officers like him around," Vanessa finished, a far-off look settling onto her face.

Uhura narrowed her eyes just a bit. "Yeah, and he's pretty cute, too, huh?"

"Nyota," Carol warned softly, shooting the woman a pointed look.

Vanessa laughed nervously. "Well, I don't know about that. I just meant in a professional capacity." She noticed Uhura had a strange look on her face that she couldn't quite identify.

"Anyways," Carol said with great exaggeration, breaking the pause. "We should be arriving in the Ismarus system in a few more days. I think we're all eager to make contact with the Amarillians. Nyota, how are you coming on your Amarillian dialect?"

Vanessa offered a confused half-smile as Dr. Marcus deftly changed the subject and Lt. Uhura began expounding on the difficulties of pronouncing the Amarillian language. While the conversation was still pleasant, Vanessa couldn't help but sense the congenial atmosphere from earlier in the meal had dissipated just a little bit. But maybe she was just imagining things.

Before long, the women finished their meals and bid each other farewell with promises to repeat the experience again soon. As Vanessa returned her dinner tray and exited the Mess Hall, she felt quite satisfied with the dinner – with the exception of that slight change in atmosphere that seemed to come out of nowhere. She tried not to dwell on it, but she couldn't help wondering if she had said something wrong.

* * *

Later that evening, feeling a bit adrift, Vanessa wandered down to Engineering to see if John Michaels was around. She found him half-buried in a disassembled control panel on the second story scaffolding overlooking the warp core. He greeted her with a friendly smile and she filled him in on that evening's events as he continued to work.

"So your chick dinner went well?" John asked as he appeared to re-route some circuits Vanessa hoped weren't supporting any vital ship functions.

Vanessa sighed. "I think so – mostly. I just can't get a good read on Lieutenant Uhura. I'm not sure whether she actually likes me or not."

"Well, she can be a little tough sometimes," John said, his voice muffled as he leaned his upper body into the recesses of the panel. "But from what I've heard, she's always fair."

"Yeah, maybe it's just me," Vanessa said. "I've felt a little more out-of-sorts than usual lately." She looked more intently at the exposed circuitry that John was rearranging. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked.

John looked up from his task and smiled. "Tinkering," he replied. "It's a hobby of mine."

"Is this Starfleet-sanctioned tinkering?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in concern.

"Um, not technically," John answered sheepishly. "But I promise it's nothing that will send the Enterprise spinning out of control."

He then paused to think. "Although I did accidentally knock all the replicators on Deck 9 offline for a few hours the other day. I made a few miscalculations as I was trying to re-program internal sensors and audio systems to automatically play Emily's favorite song every time she walks into our quarters."

Vanessa clamped her hands to her ears. "Ah, I did not just hear that! You _are_ talking to the Operations Chief of the Enterprise, John." She shook her head in disapproval, but she still couldn't keep a smile from working its way onto her face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," John replied, looking a bit chagrined. "But it was worth it. You've got to keep your loved ones happy."

He smiled as he slid a reconfigured circuit board back into place. "And programming little surprises around the ship is just my way of showing I care."

"And is your current project here another exercise in impressing your girlfriend?" Vanessa asked teasingly.

John leaned in close to her as his expression turned serious. "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." He looked intently at her with absolutely no hint of a smile. For one frightful moment, Vanessa thought he might be serious.

But then he laughed, and suddenly the friendly, amiable John she knew was back. "Just kidding," he chuckled.

Vanessa let out a deep breath. "Oh," she said, relieved. "You had me worried there for a minute."

"Well, I like to keep people guessing," John replied with a wink as he turned back to his task.

* * *

Inside the bowels of the Enterprise, a lone figure crawled through the Jeffries tube that wound its way around the perimeter of Deck 15. Having identified the sought-after junction, practiced hands made quick work of deactivating security protocols before attaching a small electronic device to the primary isolinear subprocessor housed in the designated access panel.

This backdoor interface would allow its user to monitor and potentially override any number of vital command functions, including communications, the central power grid, and most importantly, defensive capabilities.

No one would even suspect that the Enterprise was being compromised from within.

_Stupid, trusting fools. _

The intruder smiled. This was almost too easy….


	9. Chapter 9

****Story Progress: 18%**

* * *

_Stardate 2261.334_

Four days later, the Enterprise finally arrived in the Ismarus system. Per Captain Kirk's orders, the ship came out of warp and settled into orbit around Mitus Three, a small red-hued planetoid. Conditions on the surface were tolerable for humans, but the planet's desert-like environment would necessitate that any visits be short in duration.

Unfortunately, there was one complicating factor that the Enterprise and her crew had not been aware of prior to their arrival. Incessant solar winds from Mitus Three's nearby sun had the effect of creating perpetual geomagnetic storms that were set in constant motion amidst the planet's atmosphere. Sensors showed an angry collection of storms blanketing Mitus Three, swirling purposefully around the globe. A storm front would dissipate, only to be replaced by a new disturbance some distance away. It would complicate interactions with the planet below significantly.

On the bridge, Kirk paced.

"Lieutenant, any response yet from the Amarilian encampment?" he asked his Communications Chief.

"None sir," Uhura replied. "We've been hailing them on multiple frequencies for the past hour, but we've had no response. Interference from the atmospheric storms is likely a factor, but they should have received at least some of our transmissions by now."

Kirk frowned. It had taken over a month for the Enterprise to get here, and now they were being stonewalled by nature and the planet's inhabitants alike. Kirk had already decided to beam down an away team regardless of whether the Amarilians responded or not.

Suddenly, Uhura called out. "Captain, we've just received a response message from the Amarilians."

"On screen," Kirk ordered, turning to face the forward view screen.

"Sir, they have sent an audio message only," Uhura informed him. She paused as she listened and mentally translated. "Coordinates on the planet's surface where they wish a meeting to take place," she conveyed.

Kirk wasn't sure that he liked this development. He always preferred to look any new associates in the eye, or at least their closest biological equivalent of an eye, before sending his crew into an unfamiliar encounter. But now he would be denied that opportunity.

Jim Kirk's first instinct was to beam to the planet's surface himself and face the unknown side by side with his crew. But that was strictly against protocol. Not that Kirk generally had a problem flouting protocols, but he preferred to save such actions for situations that truly called for it.

"Mr. Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, Doctor Bennett," Kirk announced to his bridge crew. "Report to Transporter Room Three to prepare for away team briefing." The three designated officers dutifully rose from their stations and began to make their way to the nearest turbolift.

Ensign Chekov swiveled around in his chair and looked at the Captain expectantly. Kirk paused.

Chekov had approached Kirk three days earlier and respectfully requested assignment to the away team on Mitus Three. The young man had been itching to step foot on the planet's surface, partly to satisfy his scientific curiosity, and partly because he was desirous of a more hands-on commission. Chekov had yet to join an off-ship away team, and he felt the omission had been a hindrance to his development as a Starfleet officer. Or so he had told Kirk, in a somewhat nervous and halting speech. At the time, Kirk had tried to hide his smile.

Kirk had promised the young Russian he would consider the matter. Chekov was young, and relatively green, but he had a quick mind. Still, Kirk reasoned, inexperience was not an asset when it came to a high-stakes first meeting with an insular alien species. But he also knew there was only one way that inexperience could be cured.

"Mr. Chekov," Kirk announced. "Please join the away team in Transporter Room Three."

The young man's face broke into a wide smile. "Yes, Captain," he said, eagerly jumping up from his seat and nearly bounding to catch up with the trio entering the turbolift.

"Captain," Sulu announced from his station. "The geomagnetic storms will interfere with communications and transporter capabilities. Operational function will be intermittent, at best."

"Understood, Mr. Sulu," Kirk acknowledged.

They had come this far. He wasn't going to wait any longer to get some answers.

* * *

One half hour later, the away team assembled in the transporter room. Vanessa slung the strap of her small pack over her right shoulder and mentally rehearsed the three or four phrases in the Amarilian language that Lt. Uhura had taught her. Vanessa likely wouldn't be doing any of the communicating herself, but she felt it was better to have at least a few sentences of the species' language in her back pocket, just in case.

She looked around her at the other members of her party. Lt. Uhura was deep in conversation with Commander Spock, who wore his usual calm expression. Ensign Chekov was rocking back and forth on his heels, clearly nervous and clearly eager to get the mission underway. She smiled at his impatience, trying to remember back to her first away team assignment so many years ago.

The fifth and final member of the away team was Lieutenant Robert Jenkins, who was posted as security escort for the team. Vanessa noticed Lt. Jenkins had walked into the transporter room, looked around at the other four members of the away team, and then down at his red shirt. When he looked up, his face wore a look of apprehension. Vanessa found this odd for a security officer, who had presumably been trained for such situations, but she tried not to let it concern her.

"We're ready to commence beam down," the transporter technician informed the party. The quintet made their final preparations and took their places on the transporter pad.

Vanessa took a deep breath as the familiar pull of the transporter stretched across her body and her vision was temporarily overwhelmed by a bright, white light.

* * *

As soon as her surroundings materialized around her, Lt. Uhura took a quick mental assessment of their situation. She could immediately feel the heaviness in the air around her, a function of the planet's denser atmosphere. The ambient temperature on the surface was considerably hotter than most locales on Earth, her most relevant frame of reference. She estimated the temperature to be in excess of 100 degrees Fahrenheit. A strong wind blew across the landscape, and the dark, menacing clouds of an incoming electromagnetic storm could be seen approaching in the sky above.

The planet itself presented a mountainous, desert-like environment. Uhura noted they were surrounded by high, rocky outcroppings that towered ten or fifteen meters above the ground. Scattered around the ground beside them were dozens of smaller, fallen boulders ranging in size from roughly one to three meters in height. All of the surrounding landscape was tinted a deep, dark red. Uhura thought the whole set-up bore a distinct resemblance to the planet Mars in the Terran Sol System.

Before the away team stood three beings they knew to be Amarilians. The three creatures stood at least half a meter taller than even Commander Spock. They each wore a long, flowing grey robe, leaving only their slim hands and long feet visible below the neck. Large, unblinking black eyes featured prominently on each creature's broad grey face.

Uhura inhaled a deep breath and took three small steps toward the Amarilians. Spock, standing to her left, stepped forward with her. Chekov and Commander Bennett fell in behind them, with a watchful Lt. Jenkins bringing up the rear.

"Greetings from the United Federation of Planets," Uhura announced in Amarilian. "We come on a mission of peace and friendship."

The tallest of the three aliens stepped forward. "Greeting to Federation," he said, in broken Standard. His voice was clear and sonorous. "Amarilian welcome."

He then bowed his head slightly toward the five newcomers standing before him. The two Amarilians standing behind him repeated the gesture.

"I am Lieutenant Uhura of the Federation Starship U.S.S. Enterprise," Uhura continued in the Amarilian tongue. She gestured to Spock. "This is Commander Spock, the First Officer of the Enterprise."

"Vulcan," the lead alien replied. He turned back around to his two companions. "Vulcan," he repeated to them. Then, as he turned back to face the visitors, he touched his long, slender fingers to the side of his wide face. "Vulcan," he said again.

Spock realized this gesture was meant to symbolize the Vulcan mind meld. He found it curious. Was the Amarilian simply attempting to convey what he knew of Spock's culture? That would be the most logical conclusion. But as the alien stared intently at Spock, his hand still pressed to his face, Spock briefly wondered if there was a deeper meaning to the gesture.

"Do you have a name?" Uhura asked, addressing the apparent leader.

The creature pulled his gaze away from Spock and focused his wide black eyes on Uhura. "No name," he said, again in Standard. "No Amarilian have name. All are equal."

The creature shifted his weight and stole a quick glance at the rocky cliffs overhead. "Why you have come?" the alien asked. While none of the five members of the away team could be certain what normal behavior was for the Amarilian race, if each had to ascribe a motivation to the manner of the creature now before them, it would have been one of nervousness.

"We have identified some of your species' technology on the smallest moon orbiting the planetoid Kasius in the Rylandian system," Spock said calmly. "We have ascertained that this technology was likely involved in an attempt to manipulate the element thoranium."

The alien did not respond immediately, which Spock attributed to the language barrier and a probable lack of understanding of the nature of his inquiry.

"We want to understand how you came to be on the Kasian moon," Uhura repeated in Amarilian.

The alien spokesman stared ahead, his deep eyes unreadable. "Moon of Kasius," he intoned.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw Commander Bennett surreptitiously produce a tricorder from her pack. She activated the instrument and began scanning their surroundings. The Amarilian trio seemed suddenly agitated by this action.

"Why is it you look," one of the two heretofore silent aliens asked, a sharp tone to the question.

Spock reached out to Vanessa and calmly lowered the woman's arms. The doctor took the hint and quietly pocketed the tricorder, although Spock noted she did not power off the device before doing so.

The three Amarilians huddled together and spoke rapidly in low, hushed tones. Uhura turned an eager ear to their conversation, but she couldn't make out the nature of their discussion. The tallest alien turned back to the group.

"We do not go to Kasius moon. We do not use thoranium. There is mistake," the Amarilian finally said.

"It's not a mistake," Chekov spoke up. "Our analysis was very thorough."

"Starfleet knows of this?" the third alien questioned, looking closely at the young man.

"No, we haven't shared our findings with…." Chekov started to reply, but Spock quickly cut him off.

"With all due respect to our gracious hosts," Spock interrupted. "We have traveled a great distance to make your acquaintance. Would you be amenable to arranging a time to meet with our Captain?"

Suddenly, the lead Amarilian's demeanor changed. "Please," the creature pleaded, almost sorrowfully. "You must go. Go now."

The sky crackled overhead as the approaching storm rolled in. Flashes of light illuminated the air as electromagnetic currents began to dance across the sky.

Now Lieutanant Jenkins spoke up. "The Commander asked a question," he said, firmly.

"Please go. It is not safe," the tall Amarilian said, looking from Lt. Jenkins to Spock. "There is danger."

"Danger?" Jenkins questioned, his hand automatically moving to cover the phaser holstered at his side.

The alien again looked nervously at the cliffs overhead. "Danger from storm." He took a step closer to the visitors. "Amarilian are friend. We provide food and supply for Enterprise, no more. No more question." Again, he put his hand to the side of his face and looked at Spock.

"If we could visit your camp and speak with your people, it would create harmony between us," Uhura continued in Amarilian, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"No!" the alien forcefully responded. "Must not visit. Stay away. Stay away!" He looked around wildly and reached out to Spock, his long slim fingers grasping for the Vulcan. "Please!"

Suddenly, the air around them erupted with energy. Bright yellow pulses of light rained down on the group from above. Large pieces of the nearby rock structures exploded, pelting the team with shards of red stone.

Spock was the first to process the cause of the disruption. _Someone was firing at them._

But before he could give a command to the team to take cover, the lead Amarilian suddenly threw himself in front of Spock as if to shield him from the incoming volley of fire. A mere second later, a blast ripped through the alien's midsection, narrowly missing Spock in the process. The creature crumpled to the ground, moaning in agony.

The away team scattered and everyone desperately ran for cover behind the nearest boulder that looked like it might provide a temporary shelter. Vanessa and Uhura reached the safety of a large, jagged stone and crouched down, seeking cover from the incoming fire. Chekov huddled behind a boulder of his own, just a meter or so away from the two women.

Lt. Jenkins was not as lucky as the rest of the team. As soon as he drew his phaser, a shot of energy ripped through his lower right arm, knocking the weapon from his grasp and inflicting a wide, painful-looking gash across his forearm. He cried out in pain, but had enough sense of mind to dive for cover behind one of the fallen boulders dotting the landscape. He huddled behind the rock, clutching his injured right arm.

Seeing that the rest of the team had found safety for the moment, Spock darted away from the group and sought shelter behind a hulking rock edifice. As shots landed above his head, he activated his communicator. "Enterprise, we are under attack," he called out as he tried to catch his breath. "Five to beam up immediately!"

But there was no response. No voice on the other end, and no reassuring chirp to confirm that his message had been received. He quickly glanced up at the sky overhead. _The storms were interfering. _They couldn't get word to the Enterprise and they couldn't beam out. They were stuck, pinned down by enemy fire.

He glanced over to his team. Lt. Jenkins had been injured, but was alive and crouched behind a nearby rock. Uhura, Vanessa, and Chekov all appeared to be unharmed and momentarily sheltered from their attackers' onslaught. Off in the distance, Spock took notice of a narrow passageway cut through the rockface just beyond Uhura and Commander Bennett's hiding place. If they could manage to avoid the incoming fire for at least several seconds, they should be able to make their escape through the passageway.

Suddenly, he heard a low moaning coming from the ground a few meters away from him. The alien that had shielded Spock from the attack lay on the desert floor, visibly injured. He had managed to crawl to the cover of a grouping of low-lying rocks, which just barely shielded his elongated body.

Unless Spock was mistaken, this creature had tried to protect him. Given the attack they were now under, he considered the action most illogical. This being was now in need of assistance, which Spock was prepared to provide. He also surmised that the Amarilian may be able to provide valuable insight into the situation at hand – if he was rescued in time.

Spock dropped to the ground and crawled on his belly over to the downed creature. Blasts exploded all around him.

"Spock, what are you doing?" Uhura cried out over the din of the attack.

Spock could not respond, as his attention was focused on staying as close as possible to the natural cover provided by the scattered boulders. Eventually, he managed to reach the injured alien, although the shots landing overhead were now uncomfortably close. He leaned over the Amarilian, his face just inches from the alien's. The creature moaned, his lips trembling rapidly. Spock realized he was attempting to speak. He leaned in closer and strained to hear the words the wounded alien was attempting to form.

"Help….us….." the creature weakly vocalized. His black, pupil-less eyes stared deep into Spock's own eyes, and in that moment, the Vulcan recognized the emotion that lay so plain on the alien's face.

_Fear._

The Amarilian reached out to Spock's face, but his hand fell limply back to the ground, his life force draining from his body by the second.

Suddenly, Spock realized what the alien had been trying to tell him through his gestures. He had wanted to initiate a mind meld with him. The Amarilian wanted to find a way to get his thoughts to Spock. To tell him what he had been unable, for some reason, to say.

Spock reached out his hand to the creature's forehead to initiate the mind meld. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the onslaught of thoughts and emotions that accompanied the event. But just as he was about to make contact with the alien's skin, he felt a sudden impact that slammed into his lower body, throwing him back and several feet away from the alien.

He had been hit.

"Spock!" Uhura's cry sounded out.

Fortunately for Spock, his body registered the pain of the injury approximately four seconds after it had been inflicted, which provided him enough time to roll on his side and take cover behind a medium-sized slab of rock. He looked down and observed that his left leg had been compromised. A large laceration covered his thigh and his pale skin had been burned in several patches. Most concerning, his leg was bleeding severely. The Vulcan knew the injury was serious.

"Spock, stay put," Vanessa called out from her position behind the largest boulder. "I'll come to you."

"Negative," Spock replied as the shots continued to rain down on them. "You cannot safely traverse the distance." Thick, green blood continued to spread rapidly from his wound and down his leg, seeping through his clothing. As the intense, burning sensation spread from his leg upwards into his torso, Spock struggled to steady his mind and push the pain away from his consciousness.

From her position, Lt. Uhura fought down the panic rising in her throat. They had to get to Spock! She desperately cast around their surroundings, looking for a solution. Suddenly, Uhura's gaze fell on Lt. Jenkins' lost phaser, which was lying on the ground just a few feet away from Chekov's hiding spot.

Uhura grabbed Vanessa's arm and pointed. "The phaser!"

Vanessa looked to where Uhura was pointing and her heart leapt at the sight of the discarded weapon. "Chekov!" Vanessa shouted. "Grab the phaser!"

But the young man was frozen with fear. He remained crouched behind his boulder, unwilling or unable to move. He looked frantically around him, chest heaving as he gulped in hot, shallow breaths of air.

"Chekov, we're all going to die if you don't get that phaser!" Uhura yelled. While she had meant to spur him to action, her words had the effect of scaring him even more. He stared at her with wide, panicked eyes and shook his head, remaining rooted to the spot.

"Damn it, Chekov, get the phaser! You can reach it. It's right there!" Vanessa yelled at him, equally exasperated and desperate.

But he could not be persuaded. A few moments later, a shot from above found its target and the phaser exploded in a brilliant flash of light and discharged photons. Chekov cried out as some of the energy particles were blasted in his direction, singeing the young man's hands as he instinctively shielded his face.

Now their last hope of self-defense was gone. Two members of their team were injured, one severely, and the only member of the away team with medical training couldn't get to either of them. They couldn't call for help and their only means of escape was meters away through a deadly field of enemy fire.

From his vantage point, Spock quickly assessed the situation and came to the only logical conclusion. "Commander, take the team and retreat through the passageway at your 3 o'clock," Spock yelled to Vanessa, gritting his teeth through the pain. "I will stay behind to draw their fire." Spots began to dance before his eyes and the noise around him began to sound far away. He knew he was close to losing consciousness.

"No! You need medical…" Vanessa started to protest.

"Commander, that is an order!" Spock shouted, more than a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. He felt everything around him closing in, his field of vision narrowing.

From somewhere seemingly far away, Spock heard someone cry out his name. _Nyota._

He tried to call out, to tell her to get to safety, but the words came out as a strangled cry. He struggled to draw himself upright, but he found his body would not comply.

Spock sank to the ground as the world around him went black.


	10. Chapter 10

****Story Progress: 20%**

* * *

From her hiding spot several meters away, Vanessa Bennett observed Spock slowly collapse onto the ground. Her doctor's instincts ached to help him, but that would not be an easy task from her current position. Not to mention, she had just been given a direct order from her commanding officer to evacuate the team from the area.

Next to her, Uhura was frantically activating her communicator. "Enterprise! Uhura to Enterprise! Do you copy?" she called. But there was nothing but silence on the other end of the channel.

Uhura turned to look frantically at Vanessa. "We're not leaving him," she said firmly, her eyes wide.

Vanessa took all of a half of a second to process before she replied, "No, we're not."

She looked back out at the landscape that separated them from Commander Spock. Two of the three Amarilians lay dead on the ground, never having made it to shelter. The third alien, possibly also deceased, was lying not far from Spock. Spock himself was situated at least fifteen meters away from the rest of the landing party.

Just then, the phaser fire from above suddenly stopped and an eerie calm descended on their small group. Vanessa realized this could be their only opportunity.

Her eyes fell on the small pack Lt. Uhura still had slung across her shoulder. "Is there anything vital in there?" she asked.

Uhura looked confused, but answered. "No, just some random supplies and a few PADDs."

"I'm going to make a run for it, but I'll need as much of a distraction as you can give me," Vanessa told her, securing her own pack across her body. "It won't be much, but just start throwing whatever you've got in there. And make some noise. Hopefully it will draw their fire for a few seconds to give me a head start. Ready?"

"Ready," Uhura replied, gathering up two handfuls of supplies. "Be careful," she added.

Vanessa just nodded and rose into a bent-over runner's stance, being careful to keep her head below the sightline of their cover. "On three," she said in a low voice.

"One…. two….. three!" As soon as the last word left her mouth, she took off at a run. Behind her, she heard Uhura let loose with a string of loud expletives and angry, unhinged yelling. Vanessa had to give the Lieutenant credit – if that display didn't scare the Amarilians, nothing would.

The blasts from above started up again, and Vanessa could hear the impacts hitting behind her. Only a few seconds passed before she could feel the explosions start hitting closer to her feet.

She dove behind a large boulder, just milliseconds in front of a blast that sheared off a small section of stone right by her head. She paused for a few seconds to catch her breath and visually scope out her next move. Spock was lying only a few feet away now. She took another deep breath and leapt out from behind the boulder, ready to sprint the rest of the distance.

Unfortunately, their assailants were ready this time, having guessed Vanessa's destination. Just as she was nearly within reach of her intended patient, she felt a searing heat rip across her abdomen. She quickly threw herself behind the cover of the large rocky outcrop where Spock lay, landing rather ungracefully on her left side.

She glanced down at her midsection and pulled up the hem of her tunic. Luckily, the shot had just grazed her. She had incurred some mild first-degree burns and was bleeding slightly, but the wound did not appear to be serious. She quickly turned her attention to the prone Vulcan beside her.

Vanessa quickly felt for a pulse on Spock's still form. Thankfully, she found one, although it was very weak. She assessed his wound and concluded that the immediate priority was to stop the bleeding. She had only the very basics of medical supplies with her but they should be enough to buy Spock some time.

She bent the unconscious Vulcan's knee to elevate his leg and slow the flow of blood to the extremity. Vanessa rummaged through her pack and withdrew a hypospray, hastily loading it with a pale blue liquid. After a brief examination of the site of the injury, she carefully injected the coagulant directly into Spock's wound, thankful that he was unconscious at the moment and unable to feel the momentary pain she was inflicting.

She then leaned over and ripped at the pant leg of Spock's uninjured limb. The material gave way and she quickly wound up the cloth and wrapped it around Spock's injured leg, just above the wound. While these rudimentary actions would slow the flow of blood, Vanessa knew she needed to get Spock back to the Enterprise as soon as possible. Vulcan physiology was considerably more advanced than that of humans and while Spock's body had a remarkable ability to heal itself, he was going to need more medical assistance than she could provide in their present situation.

Unfortunately, there was a new problem facing her now - she couldn't possibly carry the unconscious Vulcan all that distance to the passageway and potential escape. She looked around frantically, trying to formulate her next move.

Just then, Vanessa's communicator crackled to life.

"…..the hell is going on down there? Away team, respond!" Kirk's voice was full of concern.

"Captain, beam us up now!" Vanessa shouted, mentally praying that any lull in the storm overhead would last long enough to allow for escape. "The Amarilians attacked and Spock is injured. Emergency medical team to the transporter room immediately!"

"Acknowledged," Kirk replied tersely.

Vanessa wrapped Spock's limp arm around her shoulder and drew herself as close to him as she could, keeping pressure on his injured leg. The few seconds that passed before she felt the initial prick of the transporter beam were some of the longest of her life.

* * *

As the familiar walls of the Enterprise's transporter room came into view, Vanessa exhaled. For the first time since they had been attacked, she started to feel the smallest bloom of hope.

Just then, several members of the medical staff rushed into the room, pushing an anti-grav lift. Vanessa motioned to them, and with a few quick, practiced movements, the team carefully loaded the unconscious Spock onto the lift.

"Patient incurred a hit from a directed-energy weapon of unknown origin," Vanessa briefed them. "Injury to upper thigh. Superficial femoral artery is partially transected and needs repair. I treated with a course of coagulant and applied tourniquet."

"Yes, Ma'am," one of the med team crisply replied. "Dr. McCoy is waiting." The team began to push the lift down the hall to the Med Bay.

"You!" Vanessa commanded, grabbing the sleeve of one of the medical officers. "Stay here. We've got another injury incoming," she told him, thinking of Lt. Jenkins.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, moving closer to the transporter pad in preparation.

Vanessa quickly moved over to the transporter control station and addressed the crew member on duty. "We've got three more down there. Can you locate their signals?" she asked, making a supreme effort to slow down her frantic speech.

The Ensign's face was a picture of concentration as he stared intently at the screen in front of him. "I'm trying. Stand by."

His fingers flew across the controls as a few strained seconds passed. "I have them," he announced, activating the transporter.

Vanessa turned to face the transporter pad as a bright wash of light flooded the area. She held her breath as the forms of Lt. Uhura, Ensign Chekov, and Lt. Jenkins, all still frozen in a low crouching position, slowly materialized on the pad.

The medical officer present quickly moved to treat Lt. Jenkins. After a quick visual confirmation that Uhura and Chekov were still unharmed, Vanessa turned and took off running in the direction of the Med Bay.

As she rounded the corner into the bustling room, she could see Dr. McCoy and his team prepping Spock for emergency surgery. Vanessa quickly ran up to join them, ready to do her part.

"Twenty ccs of anetrizine.…" McCoy ordered at the same time Vanessa called out, "Nurse, bring me twenty ccs of anetrizine.…"

McCoy shot her an angry look and Vanessa held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. _It's not your Med Bay_, she reminded herself. _Time to follow McCoy's lead, no matter how much he grates on you. He's the better surgeon._

Seeing that he once again had rightful control, McCoy began directing the surgery. "Dr. Bennett, if you can restrain your enthusiasm, I would appreciate your assistance," he said as he applied the anesthetic hypospray to Spock's neck. "Begin transfusion on my mark."

Vanessa swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue and moved to comply with the CMO's instructions. "Commencing transfusion," she confirmed. Together with two of the attending medical staff, McCoy and Vanessa quickly set about repairing the damage to Spock's limb.

A few moments later, the rest of the away team streamed into the Med Bay. Chekov and Lt. Jenkins were quickly attended to, while Uhura hovered in the background, clearly anxious.

"Is Spock going to be alright?" she asked, craning her neck to get a better view of the proceedings.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant," Vanessa ordered, attempting to deflect any distractions from Dr. McCoy's attention as he worked. A few tense minutes passed as Vanessa, McCoy, and their assisting team treated Spock's injury.

"There," McCoy finally announced. "That should do it." He looked up at the screen displaying Spock's vitals, and nodded as the readouts confirmed his prognosis.

"Patient is stabilized," McCoy said to his team. And with that pronouncement, the tension level in the room immediately dropped several notches.

McCoy turned to Uhura. "Don't worry. He'll live to lecture us all another day," he told her. Uhura sighed audibly and buried her face in her hands, her body collapsing in relief.

"Close up the wound," McCoy directed as he prepared to move away to assess the rest of the away team. Vanessa made a motion towards the necessary implements, but McCoy stopped her. "Not you," he said, firmly. "You were just in a firefight. You're done here. Doctor Nguyen can take it from here."

Vanessa opened her mouth to protest, but quickly abandoned the idea. Clearly, the CMO wasn't in the mood to argue. As McCoy checked on Lt. Jenkins' treatment and the final work on Spock was completed, and even Chekov's minor injury was attended to, Vanessa found herself without a task.

As she scanned the room to see if there was some way in which she could render assistance, Vanessa felt her heart rate slowly returning to normal. She let out a deep breath as the adrenaline began to gradually filter out of her system.

The immediate crisis was over. Spock would live. Every member of the away team was safe and accounted for. Against expectations, the Amarilians had proved to be hostile, but the only casualties had been members of their own contingent. The whole attack made no sense, but Vanessa was certain Kirk was already planning their next move.

Suddenly, Vanessa winced in pain. In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about her own injury. She gingerly lifted the hem of her tunic to reveal a long gash traversing her abdomen. The wound was mostly superficial, but the dried blood made it look worse than it actually was.

McCoy's doctor's eyes fell on her, quickly assessing the injury. "I'll need to clean that up for you."

"There's no need, Doctor. I can dress it myself," she offered, moving to prep a hypospray.

"Sit," he commanded, taking the hypospray out of her hand and motioning her to a biobed. Vanessa rolled her eyes and let out a tortured sigh, but she dutifully hopped up on the biobed and reclined back on the surface. She was suddenly too tired to argue.

As McCoy deftly tended to her injury, Vanessa's gaze wandered to where Dr. Nguyen and his assistant were repairing Spock's leg. As they finished their work and prepared him for recovery, Vanessa observed Lt. Uhura slowly approach the unconscious first officer and take his hand in hers. With a small smile, she bent down to brush his hair from his forehead. The intensely affectionate look she bestowed on him as he slept was unmistakable.

"What the..." Vanessa muttered before she could stop herself. Were Uhura and Spock… _together?_ As in, dating together – as in, a couple? She suddenly felt like she was the last person in the room to be let in on a huge secret.

Hearing her exclamation, McCoy looked up and followed her line of sight. He chuckled. "Yeah, none of us can figure it out either," he said. "Of all the available men in Starfleet, she ends up with Pointy."

Vanessa suddenly felt her cheeks getting hot as she put the pieces together. No wonder Uhura was so panicked over Spock's injury. And now it made sense why Uhura had been a little touchy with her after Vanessa had gone on and on about how much she admired Spock. "She thought I was moving in on her boyfriend," Vanessa said softly, shaking her head.

"Well, were you?" McCoy asked with a smirk. His mind called up an image of the two women throwing punches at each other and wrestling around on the ground while the stoic Vulcan stood by, quietly observing the fight for his hand. The doctor found that this image amused him greatly.

Vanessa frowned, annoyed that she had unintentionally vocalized her thoughts. "No," she replied, shortly. "I would never get involved with someone I work with. I just didn't know…." She trailed off. For some reason, Vanessa suddenly felt like she had been duped. At the very least, she sure wasn't doing an acceptable job as the ship's Operations Chief if she had completely failed to notice an ongoing relationship between two of the ship's senior officers. _What else was going on that she didn't know about?_

Vanessa sighed and closed her eyes. The Med Bay had fallen suddenly quiet as the immediacy of the crisis abated.

"By the way," McCoy said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. "Nice work today."

Vanessa opened her eyes and looked up at the CMO in surprise. "Dr. McCoy, I think that's the first complimentary thing you've said to me since I got here."

McCoy snorted. "Well, don't get used to it," he said, reaching for a dermal regenerator.

Just then, the doors to the Med Bay swished open and Jim Kirk came striding into the room. Although his movements were steady and purposeful, his face was awash in concern. His gaze fell first on Uhura, who gave him a small nod to indicate that she, and Spock, were okay.

"Mr. Chekov, are you alright?" Kirk asked the young man sitting on the biobed next to Spock.

"Aye, Captain," the navigator replied, hanging his head and looking sheepish. "Just a few minor contact burns."

Kirk glanced over to where Lt. Jenkins was being attended to by two of the ship's medical staff.

McCoy anticipated his inquiry. "He'll be fine. He's just going to need a few more sutures. Spock got the worst of it, but he should be right as rain in another week or two." He gestured to one of the staff standing nearby. "Nurse Glazer, would you please revive Mr. Spock?" The male nurse quickly retrieved a hypospray and pressed it to the unconscious Vulcan's neck. Just a few seconds later, Spock began to stir.

Jim Kirk turned his gaze on his second officer. "Commander, I assume you'll live as well?" he said, with a cocked eyebrow. For a moment, Vanessa almost wondered if he was disappointed about that possibility.

"Yes, sir," Vanessa replied, as McCoy finished attending to her wound. She slowly sat up and tugged her tunic back down across her freshly-repaired midsection.

Kirk glanced over at his first officer. "I understand Mr. Spock has you to thank for his life being spared." He turned back to look at Vanessa whose face now wore a look of surprise. "We were able to intermittently monitor what was happening on the surface," he explained. "Transmissions were pretty spotty, but we did receive loud and clear the part where Mr. Spock ordered you to retreat with the rest of the away team and you ignored him."

Kirk's face was hard as he considered the woman before him. "That's a very serious offense, Commander. You ignored a direct order from a superior officer during a crisis situation."

Vanessa swallowed hard. She knew she had to face the fallout she had earned. She had never in her life disobeyed an order from her commanding officer, but she wasn't sorry. She slid off the biobed and attempted to stand up as straight as she possibly could. "Yes, sir," she said. "I take full responsibility for my actions. And I accept any consequences for them."

Kirk stepped closer and leaned in toward her. For some reason, Vanessa couldn't help but notice how very blue his eyes were. She braced herself.

"Well, I guess I can't be too hard on you for helping return my first officer in one piece," he finally said. "After all, with Spock gone, that honor would have fallen to you. And I don't know that I like you nearly as much as I like Spock." It was obvious he was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Sir?" Vanessa could barely contain her surprise. "I must insist that I…."

Jim Kirk broke into a wide grin and a small laugh escaped his throat. "Commander," he said patiently, as if he were explaining something to a five-year-old, "I think we've all had enough excitement for the day. What you did was very brave. Stupid, but brave. And I'm sure Mr. Spock will be glad to buy you a beer, or Vulcan tea, or whatever it is he drinks, to say thank you. I'll say thank you as well. And we'll leave it at that."

Vanessa's surprise was complete. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," she managed to get out.

Kirk turned back to his groggy Vulcan friend and slapped him on his uninjured leg. "Okay, Mr. Spock, I expect you back at your station in approximately ten minutes." He turned a serious look toward his first officer.

Through his woozy state, a look of confused alarm crossed Spock's face. "Captain, while I shall make every effort to…" he began, slurring his words.

"Spock," Kirk said with a wide smile. "I'm kidding. Rest up." Then he turned and addressed the entire room. "Good work, everyone," he announced. "Carry on." And with that, Jim Kirk walked out of the Med Bay.

Vanessa could have sworn she heard a fawning female sigh from somewhere in the room as the Captain took his leave, but she was still mentally replaying his words to her so she couldn't be sure. She couldn't believe Kirk wasn't going to so much as slap her on the wrist. Any other Starfleet captain would at the very least have chewed her out for not following a direct order in a crisis situation.

And yet Kirk's response amounted to little more than a shrug of his well-built shoulders. There was a lot going on around the Enterprise that Vanessa felt she didn't fully understand yet, but one thing was becoming abundantly clear.

Jim Kirk wasn't like any Starfleet captain she had ever known.

Uhura glanced over and noticed the look on Vanessa's face. She knew exactly what the Operations Chief was thinking.

Uhura smiled. "Welcome to the Enterprise," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

****Story Progress: 22%**

* * *

As soon as Dr. McCoy judged her fit to be released from the Med Bay, Vanessa headed back to her quarters for a quick shower and change of clothes. She and the rest of the away team had been put on temporary leave, as was standard operating procedure after what had just happened down on the surface. Whatever else was in store for the Enterprise, she would be watching from the sidelines until the Captain decided they were each mentally and physically fit for duty again.

Although she made every effort to remain composed during the incident on the planet and in its immediate aftermath, Vanessa was more than a little shaken up. Sure, she had faced down Klingons when they attacked the _Ulysses_ several months back, but she had never been so physically close to a battle situation. It was not an experience she cared to repeat ever again.

As Vanessa stood in the sonic shower, she looked down and noticed that her hands were trembling. Her medical training told her that she was simply experiencing the after effects of the stressful encounter. But her hands shook nonetheless and she mentally cursed her body's inability to control the impulse. She leaned on the cool metal frame of the shower as she sought to slow her racing heart and bring her body back into compliance.

Vanessa stepped out of the shower and quickly redressed. As she picked up the small shoulder pack that she had been carrying down on Mitus Three, she suddenly remembered that the small tricorder nestled at the bottom of the bag was still active and recording data. When Spock had signaled to her to put the device away, she had purposely not shut it off, hoping to capture any useful information from their surroundings that she could.

She withdrew the tricorder from the bag and finally powered the device down. It was probably too much to hope for, but there might be some useful data in there somewhere, although it likely wouldn't be anything more than environmental or atmospheric readings.

She put the tricorder back down and made a mental note to review the captured data later that day. Right now, her first priority was a bit more personal. At that moment, she needed a friend.

Vanessa headed down to Main Engineering.

She found John Michaels disassembling a control panel in the northwest wing. His eyes lit up when he saw her and he greeted her with a friendly hug, which flustered Vanessa just a bit. John had, of course, heard about the attack and had been worried for everyone's safety. Vanessa quickly filled him in on everything that had happened that morning, ending with Kirk's dismissal of her insubordination.

"Wow, so he didn't even reprimand you?" John asked, attempting to hold a conversation and reprogram some circuitry at the same time.

Vanessa shook her head. "No," she replied. "He just gave me that old Kirk grin and got right back to business. Although I swear he somehow managed to flirt with everyone in the room while doing it."

John chuckled. "Actually, I shouldn't be surprised," he said with a smile. "Jim Kirk isn't exactly a 'by-the-book' type of leader."

"Yeah, I'm getting that impression," Vanessa replied, shaking her head again.

"Well, I'm glad you and the rest of the team are okay," John said, a solemn look on his face. "Seriously."

"Yeah, me too," she replied. "If I weren't here, who else would be willing to look the other way at all your unauthorized tinkering?"

John laughed. "True."

"Speaking of which," Vanessa continued, trying to peer into the half-disassembled display. "Which vital ship's functions are you compromising today?"

"Actually, my work here is completely Starfleet-sanctioned," John replied, bringing his hand to his heart in a feigned display of injured pride. "I'm working on installing a backdoor subroutine for accessing primary command functions from Engineering." He paused and made a show of comically looking around to see if anyone was listening. "I'm also inserting a few rogue programs of my own," he said in a stage whisper. "But they're password-coded this time, so no one else can accidentally trigger them."

"Password coded, huh?" Vanessa challenged. "Give me three tries to guess this super-secret password of yours."

"Be my guest," John said, gesturing at the keypad dangling from the control panel by a wild-looking tangle of wires.

Vanessa moved over to the keypad and paused to think. She entered the standard numerical equivalent for the word "Emily". The display indicator flashed red, signaling her incorrect attempt.

"Wrong," John interjected gleefully over her shoulder. "Two more tries."

Vanessa smirked at him, certain she was on the right path. She entered the numerical translation for "JohnandEmily". Again, the display flashed red.

"Only one more guess," John said in a sing-song voice.

After thinking a few seconds, Vanessa punched in the code for "ILoveEmily". In response, the indicator lit up green, and the voice of the Enterprise's main computer responded. "Access to Level Omega Command Functions granted."

"Oops, that's not supposed to happen," John said sheepishly, moving quickly to shut the program down. "It was supposed to trigger a hologram of Emily and me on our last trip to Risa. I think a few wires got crossed. Not to mention, I guess I better pick a more secure password."

"Definitely," Vanessa told him, waving the keypad at him. "You're way too predictable." She paused for a moment and narrowed her eyes in mock concern. "You do have actual training as an engineer, don't you?"

John snatched the instrument out of her grasp and teasingly held it overhead, out of her reach. "Yes, ma'am. And don't you worry about that little mix-up. It will be fixed before you know it."

"It better be. And I sure hope your girlfriend appreciates all these technological gestures of love."

A dark look briefly passed over John's face. He frowned and stared intently at the floor.

"What?" Vanessa asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," John replied, turning back to his work.

"Come on," Vanessa cajoled. "You can tell me. I almost got killed today. I think I can handle just about anything else."

John sighed and turned to face her. "It's just…" he broke off. "Emily's been kind of…. distant lately. She just seems so… not like her usual self. I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders unhappily.

"Well, spending years out in deep space can have a profound mental effect on anyone," Vanessa offered. "Has she been in for a psychological evaluation lately?"

"I'm not sure," John answered, shaking his head. "Maybe I'm the one who needs the check-up. I know she's trying." He forced a smile to his face. "It's nothing, really. I'm probably just spending too much time around warp fields or something."

"Okay," Vanessa told him. "But you know I'm here if you want to chat."

"I know," John said. "Thanks."

A small silence settled between the pair.

"Well, I should get out of here and let you get back to crippling the ship with your poor programming skills," Vanessa finally told him. "Should I look for you at dinner?"

"Not today," John said. "I'll be here most of the night to wrap things up. I even got a meal packed. Replicated tuna salad." He motioned with his foot toward a small metal case sitting on the ground a few feet away.

"Sounds tasty," Vanessa replied, rolling her eyes. "Well, good luck with… whatever it is you're doing."

"And where are you off to now?" he inquired.

"I've, uh, got…. some things to attend to," Vanessa replied, averting her glance slightly.

"Oh, something fun I hope," John replied, motioning toward her with a diagnostic tool of some sort.

Vanessa smiled at him. "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you, right?"

John winked in reply. "Ah, you learn from the best."

Vanessa looked at John intently for a moment. "By the way, thank you."

He looked up at her quizzically. "For what?"

"For being a good friend."

John blushed slightly and scuffed the toe of his boot into the floor. "Aww, it's nothing."

"Promise me we'll grab a drink sometime when this whole mess is over, okay?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Bright, healing light surrounded him. He was everywhere, but nowhere. He felt everything, but nothing. His mind was empty, yet full.

Ever so slowly, Spock pulled his consciousness back from his meditation. Layer by layer, he felt his visualizations melt away and the Enterprise Medical Bay gradually come into focus. From his reclining position on the biobed, his view was fixed on the room's stark white ceiling. Eventually, he became aware of a figure seated to his left. He turned his head slightly in the figure's direction.

"Welcome back," Uhura said with a small smile.

Spock blinked to refocus on her familiar face. "How long have you been here?"

"Just for a few minutes," she replied. "Well, an hour and a few minutes. How do you feel?"

Spock took a quick assessment of his current state. "I am healing," he stated simply. "Are the other members of the away team in satisfactory condition?"

"Yes, everyone's fine," Uhura told him, grasping his hand in hers. "Don't worry about anything. Kirk's sending a team back down to the surface in another hour so we can figure out what's going on."

This news caused Spock some degree of alarm. He called up the memory of the lead Amarilian's desperate plea to him just before he had been injured.

_Help us._

Spock frowned. "I must speak with the Captain at once," he said, struggling into a sitting position. "I do not believe the situation on Mitus Three is as it appears."

Uhura stood up and gently restrained the half-Vulcan. "It's okay. Jim wants a full debrief from you before anyone goes back down. We'll be ready this time."

Spock relented, satisfied that he would be heard before they again set foot on the surface below. Just then, he became aware of the sharp, shooting pain in his injured leg and winced visibly.

"Dr. McCoy said you'd be as good as new in another week or so," Uhura told him, noticing his discomfort. She sighed and shook her head. "You know, you're very lucky to be alive. I guess you have Commander Bennett to thank for that."

Spock adjusted his limb and looked at his mate. "So you believe I am in her debt?"

Uhura smiled. "We both are. She brought you back to me. For that, I owe her everything."

"I do not believe the Commander will require remuneration for today's events."

"No, but she has my gratitude all the same," Uhura replied.

"Indeed."

"And Spock?"

"Yes?"

Uhura leaned in closer to him. "You really need to stop almost getting yourself killed."

"Agreed, Lieutenant."

* * *

Pavel Chekov walked the hallways of the Enterprise, aimless and totally disconsolate.

This was truly one of the worst days of his life. He had finally been given the chance to prove himself on his first away mission and he had failed in the worst way possible. He thought again of how he had frozen with fear in the face of the Amarilians' attack and a fresh wave of humiliation and regret washed over him.

How could he ever live this down?

Chekov's Starfleet training had attempted to prepare him for the possibility of hostile encounters with alien species, but he had learned that day, in the harshest way possible, that there was a world of difference between a simulation and a live situation. The young man was pretty sure he had ruined his chances of ever being assigned to another away team for the remainder of the Enterprise's mission.

As he walked, eyes downcast, he suddenly questioned whether he was even fit for service anymore. It was hard enough being one of the youngest members of the crew. While no one on the Enterprise who spent more than 20 minutes in Chekov's company questioned his intelligence or his acumen, everyone knew there was more to being a great Starfleet officer than just being smart. Bravery was just one of the many attributes that any outstanding officer, including Jim Kirk, possessed in spades. And Chekov had been anything but brave that day.

His actions, or rather his inaction, could have gotten everyone killed. He could never have lived with himself if someone had died because of his cowardice.

_Never again_, he swore.

Never again would he let his crew – his friends – down like that. He had no idea what it would take to regain their trust, but he knew he had to make things right somehow.

Chekov stopped walking and finally looked up to see where his directionless wandering had led him. He observed that he had somehow wandered down to Deck Nine and was standing in front of the doors to the main cargo bay. He knew that the debris the Enterprise had collected from the destroyed Kasian moon was still inside, carefully sorted and tagged.

Like all the members of the away team, Chekov had been placed on leave after the attack, so there was little he could do at the moment to assist in their current mission. But he still felt an overwhelming desire to do…. something. Surely there must be something the science teams had missed in their analysis of the wreckage. If he could only find that missing piece of the puzzle, that final clue - then the crew's confidence in him might be restored. It certainly couldn't hurt to have a fresh set of eyes look everything over, could it?

Fueled by this new purpose, he reached out and activated the controls to open the doors to the cargo bay.

As the doors noisily slid open, they revealed a figure standing at one of the room's display panels on the starboard wall. As the loud, clanking sound of the parting doors echoed through the vast room, the figure jumped and whirled around, clearly surprised by the noise.

Vanessa Bennett stood before Chekov, her eyes wide.

"Commander?"

"Oh, Ensign Chekov," she said, bringing her hand to her chest in surprise and exhaling fiercely. "You startled me."

"What are you doing down here?" he asked, curious more than anything.

The woman suddenly looked a bit flustered. "Oh, I was just… um, checking up on the final spectral waveform analysis from the Kasian moon particles."

"I thought that diagnostic was finished last week?"

Vanessa stood up straighter. "Well, yes. I just wanted to run a few modifications to test the variance parameters." She gestured to him. "How are your hands?"

"Oh, they'll be alright," he replied self-consciously, suddenly embarrassed at the reminder of that day's events.

"Well, be sure to stop back in the Med Bay if you experience any discomfort," she told him.

"I will," he said, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"Good. Well…. alright then," Vanessa said. "I…. was just leaving." And with that, she nodded to the Ensign and moved past him to leave the room.

"Commander," Chekov replied to acknowledge her departure.

As Vanessa exited the cargo bay and the doors closed behind her, Chekov was left alone. His mind replayed the conversation that had just taken place and he was left feeling confused. Why would she need to run the spectral analysis from the cargo bay? All of those readings had been recorded and would have been most easily accessible from one of the ship's many science labs.

Still mulling the issue over in his mind, Chekov walked over to the control panel where Vanessa had been standing. He activated the display and the last instructions that had been programmed into the interface were visible.

_Message sent_, the display flashed.

Despite a nagging certainty that he was prying, Chekov's curiosity got the better of him. With a quick jump of his fingers, he instructed the computer to provide more detail on the communique.

_Access denied_, the screen informed him. _Alpha One Level clearance required._

Chekov frowned. Alpha One clearance was typically reserved for Starfleet Admiralty. Not even Jim Kirk had Alpha One clearance. So how was it Commander Bennett was sending messages to…. someone on a highly secure channel that would have bypassed the rest of the ship's communications systems? And who was she communicating with?

It just didn't make any sense.

Suddenly, Chekov was knocked off of his feet as an immense force shook the whole ship. From somewhere that sounded far too close for comfort, a loud explosion ripped through the air.

Stunned, and finding himself lying on the ground, Chekov's mind worked quickly to make sense of what had just happened. He may have been young, but he had been through enough in his short Starfleet career to be able to make the connection.

Chekov's stomach dropped. Someone had fired on the Enterprise – and scored a direct hit.


	12. Chapter 12

****Story Progress: 24%**

* * *

Jim Kirk picked himself up from the floor of the bridge, where he suddenly found himself sprawled out, having been knocked off balance by a sharp, sudden jerk that rocked the entire ship. The red alert klaxon rang out.

"Report! What the hell was that?" he demanded. _Were the Amarilians firing on them?_ "Shields up!"

"Captain," the android science officer on duty responded. "Sensors indicate a major explosion originating in Main Engineering." His fingers flew rapidly across his control screen. "The detonation does not appear to have been triggered by a source external to the Enterprise."

_So they weren't under attack._ "What caused the explosion?" Kirk demanded.

"Unknown, sir," the officer replied, still working his console. "Sensors indicate extensive structural damage."

"Scotty, what the hell's going on down there?" Kirk yelled as he activated the comm link to Engineering.

But there was no response from the other end. "Scotty!" Kirk called out again, to no effect.

"Emergency response teams to Main Engineering immediately," he ordered over the comm, trying to keep his voice calm.

Kirk turned to his bridge crew, his face tight. "I need answers now! What the hell just happened to my ship?"

* * *

Scotty struggled into a sitting position, choking and gasping for air. Thick black smoke clouded his vision and stung his eyes. He shook his head to clear the effects of being forcibly thrown several feet from his previous position.

The loud blast had left his ears ringing, but as his hearing began to return, the sound of screams and cries for help could be heard all around him.

Overhead, the Enterprise's fire containment system kicked on. The dark, smoke-filled air was quickly funneled up and out of the area while foamy fire retardant rained down on the room and its occupants. After just a few seconds, the smoke had dissipated enough that Scotty was able to get his bearings.

_Move_, he willed his body.

He hauled himself up, ignoring the painful ache in his back. He stumbled over to the nearest control station, and quickly tripped the evacuation protocol. He had to get everyone out of there. If the warp core was breeched…..

"Warning. Evacuate immediately," the ship's computer announced in a loud, clear voice. "Warning. Evacuate immediately."

Scotty frantically initiated a status check of the ship's warp core. As his blurry vision slowly came back into focus, he cycled through a series of readings and outputs that reassured him that the core was still intact and not in danger of containment breech. At least they wouldn't all be blown to kingdom come…..

Grateful for small miracles, the Chief Engineer turned to survey the chaotic scene around him.

Dark smoke was still billowing from the northwest corridor, which appeared to be where the blast had originated. All around him, the Engineering crew was yelling and running in panic, desperately trying to flee the area.

"Go, go," he directed them. "Get out. Everyone get out!"

With the warp core safely contained and no other signs of imminent danger, Scotty knew his next priority was the safety of his crew. It was his responsibility to ensure that every last man and woman was accounted for. As everyone ran from the direction of the explosion, the Chief Engineer now ran toward it, frantically looking for anyone that needed assistance.

As he rounded the corner into Engineering's aft section, he almost tripped on a young woman lying on the ground, her left arm underneath her bent at an odd angle. Despite the dark soot covering her face, Scotty recognized Lieutenant Waters, and said a silent prayer of thanks that she was still moving.

He kneeled down and gently helped her into a seated position. She moaned in pain, but appeared to be fully conscious.

"Can you walk, lass?" Scotty asked.

The woman coughed and struggled to speak. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

Scotty helped her to her feet, being careful to avoid her injured left arm. She took a moment to find her footing and then glanced back to the still-smoldering corridor.

"I don't think everyone made it out," Lt. Waters said, in a small voice.

Scotty grimaced. "Get to the Med Bay," he told her. "I'll make sure no one's left behind."

"Be careful, Sir," she told him, her dark eyes filled with concern.

Scotty nodded to her briefly and took a deep breath. He ran headlong through the burned remains of the passageway. The acrid stench of burned metal filled his nostrils, nearly causing him to gag. He fought back the reflex and strained to see through the hazy air.

"Hello," he called out. "Is anyone here? Can you hear me?"

He carefully ran the length of the darkened corridor, sidestepping partially collapsed structural material and sparking circuitry. He was just about to breathe a small sigh of relief that the blast area was clear, when his gaze suddenly caught the outline of a red uniform. Someone was lying under a pile of debris. His heart skipped a beat.

Scotty quickly jumped over some burned wreckage and bent down to lift a large, misshapen piece of metal off of the prone individual. With a grunt, he tossed the twisted wreckage to the side and turned back to the fallen crew member.

"Jesus," he breathed. The man lying before him was severely injured. His face was covered in blood, his right leg had been partially crushed by the surrounding debris, and he was bleeding profusely from a scary-looking wound in his right shoulder.

Scotty was no doctor, but one thing was immediately clear - it was bad. Really bad.

* * *

From her location, Vanessa had felt the jolt to the ship like everyone else on board. She had no idea what had just happened, but she knew the Enterprise had suffered a calamitous event of some kind.

She was still off-duty, but her first instinct was to head back to the Medical Bay, just in case there were any injuries that needed to be attended to. She walked the Enterprise decks quickly, urged on by the blaring of the red alert klaxon.

As she rounded the corner of the hallway on Deck Seven, she could see a steady stream of people filtering into the Med Bay, some being helped or carried by others, most bearing some sign of traumatic injury.

Her brisk walk turned into a run.

As she burst into the ship's Medical Bay for the second time that day, the scene before her was one of chaos. More than a dozen crew members were scattered about the room, some lying on biobeds, others laid out on the floor. Each were suffering various degrees of injury, ranging from burns to lacerations to broken bones.

The medical staff on hand was scrambling to meet the inflow of casualties, their voices raised in urgent cries, calling out orders and directives. As she stood taking in the scene, Vanessa was nearly run over by two nurses supporting a limping crew member with visible trauma to his lower leg. Her doctor's instincts quickly kicked in.

She quickly scanned the room, in search of the most critical patient that was currently unattended. Her eyes fell on a young ensign writhing on a biobed, who appeared to be suffering from first- and second-degree burns on her face and hands.

She ran over to the young woman and grabbed a nearby tricorder to scan her vitals. From a few feet away, Dr. McCoy looked up from treating a burn patient of his own, his dark eyes flashing.

"You're on administrative leave," he snapped. "You shouldn't be here."

Vanessa didn't so much as glance in his direction as she started her treatment. "Dr. McCoy, you've got a Level Three medical situation and you need all the experienced hands you can get," she replied evenly. "I'm assisting and if you don't like it, you can kindly go to hell."

McCoy half snarled at her, but didn't press the point. Both doctors turned back to their patients, more concerned with the immediacy of the situation than with procedural technicalities.

After a few intense minutes, Vanessa managed to get the young woman in her care stabilized and out of danger. "I'll be right back to get that skin regenerated," she told her patient with a hurried smile. "You're going to be just fine. But I've got to check on some other folks first, okay?"

The ensign nodded, her face still taut with fear. Vanessa gave her a reassuring pat on the arm and turned to begin the process of extracting a piece of debris that was embedded in Lt. Aja's calf.

Suddenly, Scotty's anxious voice was heard rising over the din. "We need some help here!"

Vanessa turned to see Scotty, his uniform covered in dark soot, and another crew member carrying a badly injured man on a makeshift stretcher. She could see, even from some distance away, that the man's injuries were severe. As she moved closer to make a more complete assessment, a sick feeling suddenly washed over her. She realized she was staring at the battered body of Lieutenant John Michaels.

Her face went pale. "John!" _Oh no_, she thought.

Vanessa motioned them to a nearby biobed. "Over here, quickly!"

Scotty and the other officer moved to deposit the injured man on the biobed as instructed. Vanessa tried to fight back the panic that was welling up inside of her at the sight of her friend's extensive injuries.

John moaned. "Vanessa?" he asked weakly, his head lolling to the side.

"I'm here, John," she replied, motioning to one of the nurses for assistance. The nurse quickly complied, loading a hypospray and handing it off to her.

John's face was a mixture of pain and fear. "I don't want to die," he whispered, a tear sliding down his bloody cheek.

"You're not going to die," Vanessa replied with false conviction, her throat suddenly full. "We're going to take good care of you. Just relax." She pressed the hypospray into his neck and his eyes fluttered shut. She moved quickly to staunch the flow of blood from the open wound in his right shoulder.

"Dr. McCoy," she called out as she worked. John's injuries were so severe, she knew his best chances lay with the most skilled surgeon on the ship. "I have a critical patient! Severe blunt thoracic trauma."

McCoy moved over to her side, quickly assessing the extent of John's injuries with a visual examination.

"Let's get that wound closed up first" he said. "Dr. Nguyen, we'll need a hand."

Hearing his name, the harried-looking doctor hastily stepped over to help assist Vanessa and McCoy in their efforts.

Under Dr. McCoy's direction, the trio worked quickly to repair the damage from John's multiple injuries, but it quickly became clear that they were fighting a losing battle. As soon as they repaired the damage in one localized area, another injury manifested itself somewhere else. John's vitals were weakening by the minute.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the nearby display screen monitoring those vitals.

"Dammit," McCoy muttered. "He's going into cardiac arrest. Doctor, two hundred milligrams of metrazine to the aortic cavity."

Dr. Nguyen skillfully loaded the hypospray and brought it down hard on John's chest, deploying the serum directly into his heart.

"Again," McCoy said, calmly. Dr. Nguyen repeated the action, but the monitor continued to flash its red warning. It wasn't working.

"Again."

Once more, the metrazine was applied. The only response was the frantic beeping of the monitor.

Vanessa tried to fight back the panic rising within her_. Please, John_, she silently pleaded.

McCoy leaned over John and checked for a pulse and signs of breathing. He repeated his check, but there were no signs of life.

The CMO exhaled forcefully. "I'm pronouncing him," he said solemnly.

"No!" Vanessa cried out. She looked frantically at Dr. Nguyen. "Another round of metrazine," she ordered.

Dr. Nguyen paused for a moment before plunging the hypospray down into John's chest. There was no response.

"Again," Vanessa ordered, her voice breaking. Dr. Nguyen froze, his hypospray in mid-air, and glanced at McCoy for direction.

"That's enough, Doctor," McCoy said firmly, raising his voice just a bit. "He's gone."

Vanessa's breath caught in her throat. _This couldn't be happening._

"Please note the time of death in the medical log," McCoy ordered, briefly closing his eyes. For just a moment, a hint of emotion washed over his face before he opened his eyes again, and the look was gone.

Vanessa felt the room around her spinning. John couldn't be dead. It didn't seem real. For a moment, she wished it could have been anyone else lying still and silent on that biobed instead of him. But she couldn't escape the harsh reality – her friend was gone.

With a sudden flash of anger, she reached out and knocked over the nearby tray of medical instruments that had failed to save John's life.

"Goddammit!" she yelled loudly, her voice thick with emotion. The instruments on the tray skittered noisily across the room, coming to rest several feet away from where she stood.

Everyone around Vanessa turned to look at her, startled by the sudden outburst. McCoy recovered from his surprise first.

"Doctor, you will control yourself in this Med Bay," he said in a low voice. "And if you can't conduct yourself in a professional manner, I will have you removed. Is that clear?"

Vanessa's chest heaved as she gulped in huge, angry breaths of air. Every fiber of her being wanted to lash out at something, or someone, but the rational part of her brain struggled to make itself heard. John was still dead. Nothing could change that now. She could still help the crew and save more lives, but she couldn't do that by throwing a temper tantrum.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a few seconds, making a supreme effort to swallow her anger and her grief. A blessed wave of numbness washed over her and she opened her eyes.

Vanessa finally looked up at the Chief Medical Officer, her face blank. "Of course," she said flatly. "My apologies, Doctor."

"Good," McCoy replied, his face softening just a bit. "Now please see to Lieutenant Aja and close that laceration."

Still in a state of shock, Vanessa moved wordlessly to begin treating Lt. Aja's injury. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She knew she had to focus and help who she could. But the image of John's pale, frightened face wouldn't release its grip on her mind.

The next hour was a blur as the medical staff worked to treat all of the incoming injuries and stabilize the situation. Eventually, a wary calm settled over the room. Fortunately, it appeared that there would be no further fatalities. _Just John_, Vanessa thought bitterly. _It was so damn unfair._

As soon as every injured crew member was in stable condition and she judged that she was no longer needed, Vanessa quietly slipped out of the Med Bay. She would file her report later. She wasn't supposed to be here anyways. And at that moment, she wanted to be alone more than anything.

She walked briskly back to her quarters, fighting valiantly to keep a straight face.

She soon reached the sanctuary of her room and quickly stepped inside. As the doors closed behind her, she stood very still for a few moments. Then, very calmly, she walked over to her bed and picked up a pillow and pressed it to her face.

An almost primal feeling came over her as she let out an anguished scream, muffled by the fabric.

John was dead. She couldn't save him and now he was dead.

Vanessa sank onto the floor as all of the intense emotions of the past six hours finally overwhelmed her. It was all just too much.

She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN: Thank you so much to those of you who are reading my story, and especially to those who have reviewed, faved, or followed recently! I truly appreciate it, and it gives me motivation to keep moving forward with my writing. Thank you again!**_

****Story Progress: 27%**

* * *

Hikaru Sulu leaned back in the Captain's chair on the bridge of the Enterprise.

"Acting Captain Sulu to Engineering," he called out.

Try as he might, Sulu couldn't fight the flutters he felt from hearing his words. How he loved the sound of his name with that title preceding it, even if it was only temporary. He could certainly get used to being _Captain Sulu_ more permanently….

A voice broke through his reverie.

"Scotty here," the engineer replied from deep within the bowels of the ship. He sounded more than a little frazzled, which was understandable in the current situation.

"Scotty, how are the repairs coming?" Sulu queried. "Do we have any idea what caused the explosion?"

Through the comm, Sulu could hear Scotty's frustrated sigh.

"Not yet," the Chief Engineer replied. "I cannot find any explanation. Sensors showed all systems were operating within normal parameters. It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, keep me updated," Sulu told him.

"Aye, sir," Scotty replied grimly. "I'll figure out what happened. I promise you that."

Sulu closed the channel and crossed his arms, deep in thought. An unprovoked attack from a supposedly peaceful alien species and a devastating, unexplained explosion in Engineering, occurring just a few hours apart. Now what were the chances those two events were unrelated? Sulu was a gambling man, but he didn't think he would take those odds.

Jim Kirk certainly thought there was a connection. In fact, as soon as the Captain had determined that the ship was not in any further danger, he ordered an away team to beam down to the Amarilian encampment immediately while there was a break in the electromagnetic storm pattern.

In true Jim Kirk fashion, he announced that he himself would be accompanying the away team. He wanted answers from the alien species, and come hell or high water, he was going to get them himself. Kirk and his team had beamed down to the planet fifteen minutes ago, and Sulu was carefully monitoring the situation from his position on the bridge.

With the Captain away from the ship, Commander Spock injured, and Commander Bennett on administrative leave, command of the Enterprise was passed to Lieutenant Sulu. Sulu had allowed himself a few brief moments to revel in the sensation of being in charge. But he quickly turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

If anyone could determine the cause of the explosion, Scotty could. His knowledge of the Enterprise's inner workings were unmatched. But what else were they missing? Sulu had a nagging feeling that there was something they were overlooking.

Jim Kirk's instinct was to act – to throw himself at the problem and let the chips fall where they may. But Sulu's inclination was to analyze – to look at the issue from different angles until he found more clarity. So how best to approach this situation?

Suddenly, an idea popped into Sulu's head. He eagerly leaned over and activated the comm.

"Lieutenant Uhura, please report to the bridge," he called.

"Acknowledged. On my way," the Communications Chief responded over the link.

Sulu's mind raced. They had been so busy focusing on the planet below and on containing the damage in Engineering that they hadn't paid any attention to anything else going on around them. Maybe that was the key….

A few moments later, Lt. Uhura appeared on the bridge and quickly made her way over to where Sulu was seated.

"Sir?" she asked, her expression reflecting her curiosity.

Sulu looked at the woman, barely able to suppress his eagerness.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to need your help."

* * *

Down on the surface of Mitus Three, Jim Kirk was getting impatient.

Kirk, along with twelve security escorts and two science officers, had beamed down to coordinates just outside of the Amarilian encampment. Sensors indicated that there would be a short break in the electromagnetic storms circling above the camp's location that should allow for safe transport and reliable communication with the Enterprise. Kirk had insisted on taking advantage of the opportunity.

While Starfleet's information about the Amarilians was somewhat spotty, intelligence suggested that there could be anywhere between one thousand and four thousand of the species living on the small planet. And that made what their sensors were now showing that much more confusing.

"Sir, I detect no alien life signs in the area," Science Officer Denik announced, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. She stared at the screen of her tricorder intently. "Or life signs of any kind."

"Are you sure?" Kirk asked, equally puzzled. "Nothing at all?" _This was getting weirder by the minute_, he thought.

"No sir," she responded, shaking her head. "The camp is empty."

"Well, we better have a look," Kirk said, now more eager than ever to get some answers.

"Okay, let's move in," Security Officer Kendall ordered, taking up the point position. "On my mark. Collins, Jarvis – protect the Captain." He drew his phaser rifle and began advancing toward the camp, eyes carefully sweeping the horizon for signs of danger.

Lieutenant Kendall's security team fell in line behind him, taking up a military formation that flanked Kirk and the two science personnel. Kirk couldn't help but be annoyed that he was being shuffled to the center of the pack and surrounded. He didn't think he needed protecting, but given what had happened to the away team earlier that day, he understood why his security team was playing it safe.

Nonetheless, it rankled Kirk. It was his duty to lead, not to follow behind his crew into potentially dangerous situations. But he tamped down those feelings and turned his focus to his immediate surroundings.

Slowly and methodically, the team entered the perimeter of the camp, which consisted of a series of small, metallic-looking structures laid out in a series of perfectly symmetrical lines. If Kirk had to guess, he would have pegged these buildings as living quarters.

But it didn't look like anyone was living there now. The security detail systematically checked each building, calling the all-clear signal as every structure was found to be unoccupied and devoid of life.

As they advanced carefully through the empty encampment, an uneasy feeling settled over Kirk. While sensors, and their own eyes, gave every indication that they were alone, he couldn't help but feel that they were being watched. Kirk shook his head to clear the thought from his mind.

Eventually, the team came upon a much larger metallic structure in the center of the camp. This building was easily ten times as large as the outlying structures and was clearly designed to be the focal point of the makeshift village. Kirk figured this edifice held the team's best hope for gathering any kind of intelligence.

Eager to get inside, Kirk moved toward the structure's apparent entrance, his muscles tensed in anticipation.

"Sir," Lt. Kendall warned, motioning for the captain to move aside.

Kirk rolled his eyes and stepped back to allow the Lieutenant and his security team to proceed first into the structure. _Damned regulations, _he thought, not for the first time that day. He realized his fists were clenched at his sides. Kirk took a deep breath before releasing his grip.

As Kendall approached the entrance, the large entry doors automatically slid open with a barely audible rush of air. The security officer stepped inside, phaser rifle raised and aimed straight ahead. Kendall's security team followed him into the imposing structure, weapons similarly drawn. Moving slowly, they advanced inward two-by-two.

His patience finally depleted, Kirk pushed in behind them, not caring if he was impinging on their military formation. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted from the bright daylight outside to the relative dimness of the building's interior. After a few seconds, Kirk could begin to make out the shapes surrounding him and the rest of his team.

Inside, a scene of complete devastation lay before them.

The large room in which the away team was now standing was in a state of complete disarray. The first thought that popped into Kirk's Midwest-bred mind was that the area could be best described as looking like a tornado had come through it.

Large metallic tables lay overturned and in various states of destruction all over the room. Pieces of what appeared to at one time be some sort of scientific equipment lay shattered, burned, melted, and half-disintegrated across the length of the floor. The room's walls, which appeared to house a large computer interface of some kind were now burned and charred and marked by large, gaping holes, likely inflicted by some kind of directed-energy weapon.

Kirk's heart sank. Someone had clearly tried to destroy any evidence of whatever was going on down here. They would be lucky if they were able to retrieve any useful data at all from the ruins.

"Lieutenant Denik," Kirk called. "Take your team and see if the rest of this place is in any better shape."

"Aye, sir," she replied. She flipped open her tricorder and headed down a nearby hallway, followed closely by several members of the security detail.

"Sir," Lieutenant Preston, the second science officer, motioned to Kirk. Kirk moved over to the man's side.

"I'm detecting faint traces of thoranium," Preston told him, staring intently at his beeping tricorder.

"Are we in any danger from the radiation?" Kirk asked, looking around as if he could actually see the subatomic particles in question.

Preston shook his head. "No, the levels are minute. It looks like the Amarilians ran a particle purification sweep to eliminate most of the radioactive signature. But there's no doubt. They were working with thoranium down here."

Kirk frowned. So their initial data gathered from the destroyed Kasian moon was correct. The Amarilians were experimenting with thoranium. If they had made any strides toward being able to weaponize the element, which was a distinct possibility given the Amarilaians' advanced scientific capabilities, this quadrant of space could be in a world of danger.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream rang out from the direction of the hallway through which Lt. Denik and her team had ventured.

Kirk's head snapped up at the sound. Before Lt. Kendall could utter an objection, Kirk took off at a run down the hallway.

"Lieutenant!" he called out. _Was someone here after all?_

Breathing heavily, Kirk reached the end of the hallway, which opened into a larger room nearly the size of the one he had just left. As he rushed into the room, Kirk nearly ran right into one of his own security officers. He stopped short and quickly looked around. All of the members of his team, including Lt. Denik, were accounted for and unharmed, if looking a bit pale.

"Sir," Denik whispered, her face white. With a trembling hand, she pointed out into the expanse of the room.

Kirk had seen a lot of death and destruction in his time in Starfleet, but the sight now before him still managed to turn his stomach. He inhaled sharply.

The group was standing on a ledge that overlooked a large square pit, recessed into the ground of the planet. The pit was perhaps twenty meters across and roughly half as deep. But this room, likely built to house science experiments of some kind, was now host to a much more gruesome affair.

Inside the pit lay dozens of Amarilians, all still and silent. Their bodies were unceremoniously piled one on top of the other, the creatures' long, slender grey limbs splayed out and their large, dark eyes closed and unseeing. All of the bodies bore evidence of physical trauma that had almost certainly been the cause of their demise.

"Lieutenant, are any of them alive?" Kirk asked, finding his voice.

Lt. Denik snapped out of her shock and quickly swept her tricorder over the room. "No sir," she said in a quiet voice. "They're all dead."

She took a few steps forward to the edge of the pit and leaned over as far as she could. "They are all exhibiting the same injuries," she relayed. "It looks like they've been killed by phaser discharge of some sort."

Kirk stared at the bodies until the image blurred in his vision. This didn't make any sense. It was one thing for an alien race to attack outsiders, but to slaughter scores of their own species? Based on his own experience on the surface earlier in the day, Spock had been most insistent that the Amarilians were not acting of their own accord and that some other force was at play on Mitus Three. Looking at the pile of deceased aliens now before him, Kirk was inclined to agree with his first officer.

And while the scene was grisly enough, by a quick visual estimate, Kirk guessed that there could be no more than one hundred or so of the aliens lying before them. _What happened to the rest of the Amarilians that were supposed to be living here?_

Just then, Kirk's communicator beeped.

"Sir, our window is closing," Sulu informed him over the comm. "We've got to beam you back now or else you're going to be stuck down there for quite a while under the cover of the storms."

"Acknowledged," Kirk responded, not bothering to conceal the frustration he felt. "We'll head back to the rendezvous point."

He motioned for the team to leave that room and its horrible discovery. "Let's go," he said. "We can't do anything for them now."

Slowly, the team filed out and back down the hallway toward the main vestibule in stunned silence. Whatever Kirk had been expecting to find down here on the surface, it certainly wasn't that. He was more than a little shaken by the barbaric nature of what they had just encountered. _Who would do such a thing?_

After reaching the main entry hall, Kirk took one last look around and wondered if they could possibly salvage anything useful. He turned to his two science officers.

"Ms. Denik, Mr. Preston," he ordered. "Take anything you think might help us figure out what the heck the Amarilians were up to down here."

As the away team gathered together and prepared to make its way back out of the camp, Kirk fought back a swell of frustration at the dead end they had run into. They weren't any closer to figuring out what was happening on Mitus Three. There was only one thing that was clear in Kirk's mind.

Something was very, very wrong here.

* * *

"I think I found something."

Sulu rose from the Captain's chair and walked over to Lt. Uhura's station. He leaned in closer to see her viewscreen.

"As you requested, I scanned sensor logs for any subspace transmissions or spatial anomalies of any kind originating in the area since we arrived at Mitus Three," Uhura explained. "I was able to identify two transmissions that were sent from the Enterprise on a secure channel in the past few hours."

"Sent to whom?" Sulu wondered.

"I don't know," Uhura said. "They were Alpha One level communiques – untraceable."

"And that's not all," she continued. "I also picked up a series of transporter signals emanating from the planet's surface."

"Were you able to track the transporter signatures?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "The signals were all beamed out to one point in space and then lost."

"What point in space?" Sulu asked, confused.

"Right here," she replied, pointing to an area of vacant space in the field of stars on her screen. "A point a few thousand kilometers above the planet's surface. But there's nothing there. I can't explain it."

Sulu thought for a moment. "When were these transporter signals from the surface activated?"

"About an hour ago," Uhura said, working her console.

"So what happened in Engineering delayed us just long enough that we would have missed all that activity on the surface," Sulu reasoned. "That's a little convenient, isn't it?"

"Yes," Uhura replied, frowning. "It is."

Just then, the turbolift doors swished open and Pavel Chekov walked onto the bridge. Seeing Uhura and Sulu deep in conversation, he quickly made his way over to the pair.

"Excuse me, but I think I know how I can help," Chekov said, eagerly.

"I think you've helped enough today," Uhura muttered under her breath. But seeing the crestfallen look on Chekov's face, she immediately regretted her words.

To his credit, Chekov didn't back down. He swallowed nervously and stood up straighter. "I understand why you're angry, Lieutenant. I have no excuse for my cowardice today."

Uhura shook her head and stood up from her chair. "Pavel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," she said softly, reaching out and touching the young man's forearm. "I was just concerned about Commander Spock down on the surface and I…."

"No, Lieutenant," Chekov insisted. "The fault was mine. I accept that, and I am sorry."

"Pavel, what was it you wanted to discuss?" Sulu asked in an attempt to change the subject and spare his friend further embarrassment.

"Oh, right," Chekov replied, remembering his mission. "I had an idea to counteract the effect of the electromagnetic storms around the planet. If we can amplify our transporter signals using a subspace relay, we should be able to have more reliable transport capabilities, even if the storm pattern flares up."

"Ensign, why don't you report to Transporter Room Two and see if you can get to work on that signal amplification," Sulu said to the young man. "I think that would be a tremendous help."

Chekov managed to work a half smile onto his face, happy at last to be of use. "Yes sir," he replied, turning to head back to the turbolift, a slight spring now in his step.

As they watched him leave, Uhura sighed. "I shouldn't have said that," she said quietly.

"He'll be alright," Sulu replied. "He's tougher than he looks. Keep scanning and let me know if you find anything else." Uhura nodded and turned back to her station.

Sulu turned to look at the ship's forward viewscreen and the point on the horizon at which the transporter signals had disappeared. But only empty space stared back at him.

* * *

_Coordinates 15-43-67-71  
_

Protocols were initiated. Transport was complete. All evidence had been destroyed.

The mission was still safe – the warning had come just in time.

Equally as important, the Enterprise had been crippled. The ship's total destruction was imminent – but not just yet.

In the blackness of space, someone smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

****Story Progress: 29%**

* * *

Leonard McCoy couldn't sleep.

He always had this problem on difficult days in the Med Bay. Over the years, he had lost many patients, but the sting of failure, guilt, and occasional helplessness still remained. He had learned to push those feelings aside and continue to do his job – it's what made him a good doctor. But although he would never let the crew see it, days like this did get to him.

The CMO hadn't known Lt. John Michaels all that well, but that didn't make his death any more tolerable. McCoy always fought as hard as he could to save each and every life under his care, whether the patient was a newly-minted cadet or a top-ranking admiral. He knew he couldn't win every battle, but he would never stop trying. It just wasn't in his nature.

The doctor threw back the covers of his bedding and stood up.

Right now, he needed some coffee. Bourbon normally would have been his first choice, but he made a conscious effort not to reach for the comforting amber liquid he kept stored in his quarters. Now was not the time.

He slipped on a shirt and his shoes, ran a quick hand through his hair to eliminate any evidence of sleep, and exited his quarters. Although he could call up a perfectly good cup of coffee from the replicator in his quarters, he felt the need to stretch his legs. He walked down the hallway and took the turbolift to the mess hall.

As he stepped into the vast, now-quiet room, he saw that the hall was not entirely empty. Sitting at the back of the room, staring into a glass of something he hoped was not alcoholic, was Commander Bennett. She had a blank look on her face and was clearly lost in thought. McCoy noticed that her hair, normally up in a neat bun, was down, although still gathered in a low ponytail behind her head. Judging by her casual attire, she had come straight from bed as well.

_She couldn't sleep, either_, he thought. He felt a small stab of guilt for reaming her out earlier that day, deserved as it was.

She hadn't looked up or noticed him, and he was just about to grab something with caffeine in it and retreat back to his quarters when he stopped.

_Damn it_, he thought.

He wasn't in the mood to chat right now. But it was hard to shut off the part of his psyche that took care of others. It was the curse of being a dedicated physician. So even though he wanted more than anything to drink some coffee in peace, McCoy found himself walking over to where the woman was sitting.

"Trouble sleeping, Doctor?" McCoy asked, the words coming out rougher than he had intended.

Vanessa jumped a bit, startled by his presence.

"Oh…. Doctor McCoy. Hello. I wasn't expecting… anyone to be around this time of night."

He noticed she quickly wiped at her eyes. She didn't meet his gaze.

McCoy sighed internally and pulled out the chair across the table from her. "Mind if I join you?"

She looked a bit surprised, but managed a small smile. "Sure. Of course." She still didn't meet his eyes.

McCoy settled into the seat and leaned back in his chair. "You know, sleep is one of the primary ways in which the human body regenerates itself. Vulcans, of course, can go for days without sleep with no measurable cognitive decay, but humans…."

He looked at her and saw that she was staring off into space, clearly not listening to him and clearly preoccupied. He stopped talking.

They sat in silence for a minute, maybe two. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the Enterprise's idling impulse engines, thrumming in rhythm.

Finally, Vanessa spoke, her voice far away. "I think if we had initiated a course of lectrazine on Lt. Michaels, that might have stopped the localized bleeding enough for us to repair the femoral artery more quickly. We should have tried that. It could have made a difference."

McCoy looked at her sympathetically. He recognized the Monday morning quarterbacking. He engaged in it often enough himself when things didn't go according to plan in the Med Bay. But he had had many more years of practice learning to squelch the instinct.

"Doctor," he said softly, "It wouldn't have made a difference. Lt. Michaels' wounds were too severe."

"But maybe if we had tried to close off the portal vein first, that would have given us time to…."

"Doctor," McCoy said, more firmly this time. "It wouldn't have mattered. We did all we could."

Vanessa looked at McCoy for the first time in their conversation. He couldn't help but notice that she looked a bit lost, a far cry from the normally confident demeanor she presented around the ship.

"Yeah, I know," she said, nodding her head slowly. "I just…."

Vanessa sighed. "We've come so far and made so many medical and scientific advances," she said, again deep in thought. "We can cross a dozen galaxies in the blink of an eye and venture to the farthest reaches of space, but we still can't heal a broken human body."

"Medical science has its limits," McCoy acknowledged. "As does technology."

"Especially when it comes to replicating a decent tiramisu," Vanessa replied, with a bitter laugh. She picked up a fork and poked absentmindedly at the mostly untouched square of dessert sitting on the table in front of her. "The replicators haven't managed to get that one right in all my years of service. I haven't had a tolerable bite of the stuff in ages."

She was silent for another moment as she mindlessly probed the confection. Eventually, she placed her utensil back down on the table.

"John was one of the few people on this ship that I counted as a friend," she said, seemingly more to herself than to McCoy. "I know not everyone is thrilled about me being here, but he went out of his way to make me feel welcome when he didn't have to. He was a good man and he didn't deserve what happened to him."

McCoy felt a little chagrined at this. He knew he hadn't made any effort to befriend the new second officer beyond what was minimally required for them to get their jobs done. But it wasn't his damned job to play social director for new officers aboard the Enterprise.

"No one deserves to die out here in space, light years away from their friends and family," McCoy offered. "But unfortunately, it's a hazard of the job. All we can do is try to save as many as we can."

"I don't know how you do this all the time, Doctor," Vanessa said, again staring into her drink. "I've lost patients before, but not spending every minute in a Medical Bay helps keep me sane. At least I can escape to the science – to numbers and data - when the human aspect gets to be… too much."

McCoy was curious. "So why pursue your medical degree when you're already established as a scientist?"

When she looked at him questioningly, he explained how he was in possession of that knowledge. "I glanced through your service record."

Vanessa managed a half-smile. "I wanted to help people. It's not any more complex than that, is it?"

_No_, McCoy thought, _it isn't._

"Well, I guess I did have some ulterior motives for getting my MD," she admitted. "I thought it could really boost my career in Starfleet if I had a specialty in both science and medical. And I guess it did, because here I am on the Enterprise." She shrugged, palms up.

"But mostly I wanted to help people," she continued. "I hated the feeling of standing by when accidents happened and not being able to help my crew. I felt so helpless. I thought if I had medical training, then I could make a difference."

Vanessa paused and looked down at her left hand. "And my husband was a doctor. I really admired that about him, and I guess part of me wanted to be just like him."

McCoy's face registered surprise. He noticed for the first time that she wore a thin silver ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. He tried not to let his surprise show in his voice. "I didn't know you were married," he noted.

"I was," she said with a sad smile.

Vanessa took a deep breath and exhaled. "My husband was a senior surgeon at San Francisco General Hospital. He was on duty when the _U.S.S._ _Vengeance_ crashed into the city two years ago. He was killed, along with more than 80,000 other civilians."

She paused again. When she spoke, it was with some difficulty. "He transferred to San Francisco because of me. It was my career with Starfleet that brought me here, and he followed to be with me." Vanessa didn't verbalize the next sentence, but she had thought it nearly every day since then - _and he's dead because of me_.

McCoy didn't say anything for a minute. What was there to say?

"I'm sorry," he finally offered, hearing how insufficient the words sounded even to his ears.

Vanessa looked at him. "Thank you, Doctor," she said, with sadness in her eyes. "I know I'm not the only one who lost someone that day. Thousands of others did as well."

McCoy's guts twisted inside a little bit. He knew he would have to tell the Captain how his second officer's husband had died. Jim should know.

Jim Kirk may have come back from the dead after the _Vengeance_ crashed into the streets of San Francisco, but he was still haunted by the tens of thousands of deaths that were tallied in the incident's aftermath. McCoy knew Kirk blamed himself for the casualties and he suspected the Captain still hadn't fully come to grips with his feelings about the attack.

Across the table, Vanessa exhaled sharply. "Well, on that happy note, I should probably try to get some sleep now," she said, mentally pushing away her memory of that horrible day. She hadn't meant to delve into her personal life, but Dr. McCoy had caught her at an unguarded moment. She felt she could trust his discretion, but she was still somewhat unsettled by the conversation.

Vanessa quickly composed herself, her face slipping back into its practiced air of authority. "Thank you for your kind ear, Doctor McCoy. I do hope I haven't exacerbated your insomnia."

McCoy shook his head. "Not at all." He couldn't help but notice how she had shifted back into Starfleet officer mode.

She rose from her seat and nodded curtly to the doctor. "Well, thank you again." She turned and started to walk away.

"Vanessa," McCoy called after her.

She stopped, caught slightly off-guard by the use of her first name.

"There was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault," he said, firmly, but kindly.

Vanessa wasn't sure if he was talking about Lt. Michaels or her husband - or both.

She visibly softened and for a moment, McCoy thought she might be close to tears. But she straightened her posture, composed her facial features, and the look passed.

"Good night, Doctor," she finally said before turning and walking out of the hall.

McCoy sat alone for a while longer. He had a feeling sleep would be elusive tonight.


	15. Chapter 15

****Story Progress: 31%**

* * *

_Stardate 2261.335_

Carol Marcus brushed her blond hair back from her face and blinked repeatedly in an attempt to focus her tired eyes on the screen in front of her.

Dr. Marcus had been tasked with trying to make some sense of the various bits and pieces of equipment that the away team had brought back from the decimated Amarilian settlement. She didn't hold out too much hope of learning anything useful, but this was all the crew had to go on right now. The electromagnetic storms around Mitus Three had flared up, and sensors showed that it could be a few more days before anyone could safely head back down to the surface.

Realizing that it had been several hours since she had last taken a break, Carol decided to stretch her legs a bit. She locked the computer program she had been working on in Science Lab 3 and walked out of the room.

As she walked the corridor on Deck 8, Carol happened to look up as two crewmembers approached her from the opposite direction. When the two men caught sight of her, their voices lowered to a whisper. They cast furtive glances at the woman as they spoke in low, urgent tones. One of the men threw her an unmistakably angry look as the pair passed, and Carol stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

_It was happening again._

Carol fought back the wave of anxiety that threatened to overtake her. She leaned against the nearby bulkhead for support and tried to slow her rapid breathing.

More than two years ago, Carol had thought her life couldn't possibly get any worse. She had had to ensure seeing her own father killed at the hands of Khan Noonien Singh, the very man Admiral Marcus had awakened from cyrostasis to further his aims of militarizing Starfleet.

Along with most of the Enterprise senior command team, Dr. Marcus had been summoned to testify before several Starfleet tribunals about the existence of Section 31, and the events leading up to Khan's attempt to destroy Starfleet Headquarters. Carol's personal logs and electronic communications were subpoenaed and thoroughly searched. Of course, no incriminating evidence had been found, so there was no reason for Carol to be kept from active duty, although she suspected there were several members of the Admiralty who would have liked to do just that.

Admiral Alexander Marcus had been convicted in absentia of multiple crimes, including conduct unbecoming a Starfleet officer, treason, and attempted murder. Carol was certain she would never forget the shame she felt as the verdicts were read aloud, but she hoped that once the trial was over, she could put everything behind her and move on with her life.

But Dr. Marcus soon learned that her problems were only beginning.

Even as the events of that horrible day receded into the past, Carol found that much of Starfleet still viewed her with suspicion. She noticed that many of her former acquaintances, and more than a few people she considered friends, had stopped talking to her. Anywhere she went at Starfleet Headquarters, the whispers and side-eye glances would follow. She had been tried in the court of public opinion and been found guilty of association.

One month after the Vengeance had crashed into San Francisco, Carol had her first migraine attack. Soon after that, she started experiencing nightmares. She would wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding and gasping for breath. In her dreams, she was trapped under the collapsing rubble of downtown San Francisco, calling out to her father for help that wasn't coming.

Dr. Marcus had taken medical leave for six months following the incident while the Enterprise was being repaired and downtown San Francisco was rebuilt. She began seeing a therapist and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. With her twice-weekly cognitive therapy sessions and a strong course of medications, her symptoms had lessened to a more manageable annoyance. But she didn't know if she would ever be able to step foot on a starship again.

And then Jim Kirk had shown up at her door.

Kirk had insisted that Dr. Marcus join his crew on the Enterprise for their five-year mission. At first, Carol had flatly refused, insisting that she could never face the crew again. How could she serve on the very ship her father had tried to destroy?

But Jim Kirk was nothing if not persistent. He told her that if she ran away and hid now, she would prove the naysayers right and that if she wanted to save her career, she had to hold her head high and get right back in the game. It took many weeks and months of convincing, but eventually Carol realized he was right – the only way she could move beyond everything that had happened was to face it head on.

And so Dr. Carol Marcus had joined the crew of the Enterprise on her five-year mission. Her first few months were difficult, as she re-adjusted to life on a starship and slowly regained the trust of her shipmates. But eventually, she began to feel some degree of peace and acceptance, and she dared to believe she might find a home here. If she wasn't totally healed, she was at least moving on, with the hope of living a normal life.

But then, two months ago, her debilitating headaches had mysteriously started up again. A few weeks later, the nightmares returned. She had quietly gone to Dr. McCoy to request a reinstatement of her pharmaceutical protocol, which had helped significantly. She also began sessions with the ship's counselor.

During her most recent session, Carol had asked if there was any truth to the idea that the sins of the father were visited on the daughter. She worried that perhaps there was something in her DNA that made her irreparably flawed, or broken. The counselor had assured her that she was her own person and that her father's actions had absolutely no bearing on who she was or what actions she chose to take in the course of her own life.

But Carol wasn't so sure.

And then, yesterday's unexplained explosion in Engineering had simply thrown more fuel into the fire. Word spread quickly that this wasn't a normal systems failure, but that some outside factor had caused the event. There were whispers of sabotage on all decks, and everyone was looking for someone to blame.

And now, as Carol looked around her, she couldn't help but feel like her crewmates were once again questioning her loyalties. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but for the past 24 hours, scenes like the one that had just played out in the hallway had been repeated all over the ship. The whispers, the side glances, the suspicious looks, the way everyone stopped talking when she walked into a room – it was all so familiar.

She couldn't blame them. The last time the Enterprise suffered a mysterious Engineering disaster, a Marcus was responsible – was it so hard to believe that another Marcus was behind this attempt? After all, most of the current crew were stationed on the Enterprise when the Khan incident occurred and they weren't likely to soon forget it.

Sometimes Carol wondered if the ship herself had a memory and could sense that the daughter of the man who had tried to destroy her was amongst her crew. Even though she was completely innocent, Carol wondered if she would ever be able to escape the burden of her father's evil legacy.

Carol never liked to admit defeat. While she wore the Starfleet uniform, she would go to the ends of the known universe to do her duty and protect her crew – her friends – her family.

But there was one particularly harsh truth that she was beginning to realize she had to face – if she wanted to maintain her sanity, Carol Marcus just might have to leave the Enterprise.

* * *

The next day, a small memorial service was held for Lieutenant John Michaels of Tulsa, Oklahoma, United States of America, Earth.

Along with roughly 75 members of the ship's crew, Vanessa had attended the service, held in Main Engineering. The ceremony was short, but poignant. Captain Kirk had spoken of how Lt. Michaels had died doing his duty and the pride John had felt in becoming a member of Starfleet. Scotty had shared his reflections on working with John, his gentle sense of humor, and his propensity for making "helpful adjustments" to Enterprise operating systems.

Scotty's comments drew a small smile from Vanessa, as she remembered John's somewhat haphazard attempts at computer programming. She felt a dull ache in her chest at the thought. She was really going to miss him.

When the service was over, everyone began slowly filing out of the large room. As Vanessa made her way through the crowd, she spotted Emily, John's girlfriend, from across the room. Her dark hair was pulled back, highlighting the sprinkle of freckles dotting her somber face.

Vanessa suddenly felt an urge to speak with her.

"Emily," she called out, sidestepping several crew members in an attempt to catch the woman before she departed.

Emily turned around to face Vanessa, her dark eyes expressionless.

"I just wanted to say I'm so very sorry about John," Vanessa said sincerely. "I'd only known him a few months, but he was a wonderful man."

Emily didn't respond, but merely gazed intently into Vanessa' face, her expression unreadable.

"I… I'm so sorry," Vanessa repeated, thrown a bit off-balance by the woman's silence.

"I'm sure you are," Emily finally said, somewhat coolly.

Vanessa was slightly taken aback, but she reminded herself that grief affected people differently. "If there's anything you need," she continued. "Or if I can help in any way…."

"There is nothing I need from you," Emily suddenly snapped in a low, angry voice.

Vanessa knew her surprise was evident on her face. She opened her mouth to reply, but was at a loss for words.

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were making a supreme effort to control her emotions. She exhaled and then opened her eyes, swallowing slowly and deliberately. Her face was calm now.

"Thank you, Commander," Emily said, her voice still tight, but with a touch more emotion. "I do appreciate the sentiment. This time has been…. difficult."

The woman nodded at Vanessa and attempted a half-hearted smile. "Now if you'll excuse me."

And with that, Emily turned and walked away, leaving Vanessa standing with her mouth agape.

For her part, Vanessa was confused and hurt by Emily's shortness. She had only meant to offer sympathy, but now she felt like she had inadvertently made things worse.

As everyone continued to filter out of Engineering around her, Vanessa was overcome with a sensation of loneliness. The irony that she would have typically sought out John in a situation like this was not lost on her.

She exited Engineering and paused. She knew where she wanted to go, but she was uncertain if it would be appropriate. After a moment of consideration, her desire for company won out over any misgivings.

Vanessa took the turbolift and then walked purposely to the hallway where the senior officers' quarters were housed. She counted the doors down the corridor until she reached the correct cabin, only a few meters from her own. She reached out and activated the door chime.

"Enter," a voice from within called out.

The doors slid open and Vanessa took a small, tentative step just inside the room's threshold.

Inside, Spock was seated at a mostly empty desk, his injured leg propped up on a chair beside him. He was dressed in a dark, loose-fitting robe and he looked much improved from the last time Vanessa had seen him in the Med Bay. He glanced up from the PADD in his hand.

"Greetings, Commander," Vanessa stammered, a bit nervously. "I don't mean to intrude on your privacy, but I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Do not concern yourself," the Vulcan acknowledged, gesturing to her. "It is most pleasing to see you. Please make yourself comfortable."

Vanessa smiled in relief and walked a few more steps into the room.

"How is the leg?" she asked, leaning over to inspect his limb. "It looks like it's healing nicely."

"Affirmative," Spock confirmed. "I believe I should be able to return to duty in a matter of days."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," she told him. She couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment, and a small silence settled between them.

Spock looked more closely at Vanessa. "Commander, is there another purpose to your visit today?" he asked.

Vanessa was grateful that he read her so accurately. It made her next line of questioning a bit easier.

"I guess I'm feeling a bit…. unsettled, with John's death and everything," she replied, staring intently at the floor. "It's brought up a lot of memories, and…. I feel kind of…. lost."

"That is a common human reaction to such an event," Spock noted, calmly.

"When Vulcan was destroyed," she began, haltingly. "How did you…. manage your feelings? How did you… deal with losing so many…."

Vanessa trailed off, sneaking a cautious glance at her superior officer. She didn't want to pry or cause him any undue emotional or psychological pain. For as much as the Vulcan race was known for their reliance on logic and reasoning, she knew that, deep down, Spock and his kin experienced emotions just as profoundly as any other sentient being.

Fortunately, Spock appeared nonplussed by her line of questioning. He considered the inquiry for a moment.

"It was an intensely challenging time," he acknowledged. "In many ways I am still processing the events of the day my planet was lost. But my meditation practice has been immeasurably helpful in controlling such emotions as would be…... distracting."

Spock paused and tilted his head slightly. "And I would be remiss not to mention that Lieutenant Uhura's companionship and encouragement have had a restorative effect on my psyche."

Vanessa felt an unfamiliar tug inside her chest at Spock's mention of Lieutenant Uhura, although she wasn't quite sure why.

"Of course," she said, nodding her head. "Maybe I need to brush up on my Vulcan meditation rituals. I'm afraid I've fallen badly out of practice."

"If you are resolved to pursue this course of action, I would be most willing to assist you in your efforts," Spock offered.

Vanessa smiled and for the first time in several days, she felt just a little bit lighter.

"I would like that," she replied. "I would like that a lot."

* * *

After Lt. Michaels' memorial service, Jim Kirk sat alone in the Enterprise briefing room.

He had wanted a few minutes of solitude to regroup after the service. That, and he was avoiding Dr. McCoy, who was still after him to complete his long-overdue vaccination series. The doctor had approached him after the memorial, but Kirk proffered some flimsy excuse and made a quick retreat. Now that he thought about it, Bones had said something about wanting to talk about Commander Bennett, but Kirk had put him off with a promise to talk later.

Just then, the comm beeped - a message from the bridge. He acknowledged the comm.

"Sir, you have an incoming transmission from Captain Rodriguez of the _U.S.S. California_," Uhura informed him over the link.

Despite the somber mood the memorial service had put him in, Kirk smiled. "Patch it through, Lieutenant."

A moment later, the viewscreen in front of him was filled with the image of an attractive Hispanic woman in her early 30s, her hair closely cropped in an efficient, no-nonsense manner. Her dark eyes were intelligent, and she wore her air of authority well.

"Elena," Kirk greeted her with a wide smile. "It's been too long."

The woman looking back at him smiled in return. "Yes, Jim, it certainly has."

Jim Kirk had met Elena Rodriguez when he was a first-year cadet at the Academy and she was in her fourth year. They had been assigned to the same Advanced Warp Theory class and were partnered together for their final project. As was his typical pattern, Kirk had spent most of that semester trying to seduce Elena, who rebuffed his repeated advances with barely disguised amusement.

Once he realized that his cause was hopeless, Kirk had allowed himself to actually get to know her as a person and quickly realized that she was a very impressive individual. She was an engineer by training, and her knowledge of warp dynamics may have surpassed even Scotty's. The two eventually developed a genuine friendship, which surprised them both. After Elena graduated, she was promoted to first officer, and then captain of the _California_, making her the youngest captain in the fleet, excepting Kirk.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?" Kirk asked his friend, suddenly glad to see a familiar face.

"As I'm sure you know, the _California_ was dispatched to clean up your mess after you blew up that moon around Kasius," Elena replied, trying to hide her smile.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "We did not blow up a moon," he told her, fighting back a smile of his own. "We just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."

"That seems to happen to you a lot."

"Tell me about it," Kirk muttered. "So are you checking up on us or something?"

"Actually, yes. We're en route to your position at Mitus Three," Elena told him, with a satisfied smirk. "We're about a week out."

Kirk's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Elena laughed. "Oh come on, Jimmy. You think you're the only one who can put the pieces together? We managed to pick up enough debris in orbit around Kasius to figure out Amarilian technology was involved. I rerouted the _California_ to the encampment as soon as we made the connection, but it looks like you beat us to the punch."

She shook her head and folded her hands on the table in front of her. "I had a suspicion that you probably came to the same conclusion and were planning to question the Amarilians, even though your orders were to leave the incident to us."

"Well, don't waste your time," Kirk replied, frowning. "We were attacked when we tried to make contact. When we finally got into the camp, we found everything destroyed and abandoned with a hundred or so dead Amarilians left behind as souvenirs."

"Dear God," Elena said softly. "Did you find any evidence of the rest of the colony?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "Nothing outside of some strange transporter activity on the surface. But I've got Doctor Marcus working on trying to make something out of the whole mess. Hopefully we can piece together enough to find out what happened to them."

"Well, you can share your findings with us in a few more days when we arrive at Mitus Three," Elena said.

"So you can hog all the glory?" Kirk joked. "No way."

The woman laughed in response before her face settled into a more serious, almost guarded, expression. It was a look Kirk recognized.

"What?" he asked. Kirk knew his friend well enough to know there was something she wasn't saying.

Captain Rodriguez leaned forward slightly in her chair. "It's probably nothing, but I thought you should know. It's about your new Operations Chief."

"Commander Bennett?" Kirk asked, his face screwing up in confusion.

"Yes," Elena replied, looking concerned. "It's just something I heard from Captain Ishihara of the _U.S.S. Renaissance_. Apparently, Dr. Bennett had just been assigned to that commission when, out of nowhere, Starfleet ordered the ship back to Alpha quadrant and yanked her off to put her on the Enterprise."

She chuckled. "Captain Ishihara wasn't too happy about that order. It cost the _Renaissance_ almost three weeks in extra travel time. And the Admiralty declined to provide a justification for the transfer."

"Why haven't I heard about any of this?" Kirk wondered aloud. There was nothing in Commander Bennett's personnel file about her being suddenly pulled off of the _Renaissance, _and if there was gossip like that floating around, he usually heard about it through the usual administrative channels.

Elena looked distinctly uncomfortable and shifted in her seat.

"Oh come on Elena," Kirk cajoled. "You can't leave me hanging like that."

"Jim, I don't want to make things worse….." she trailed off, averting her gaze. After a moment of consideration, Elena sighed and looked back at her friend.

"You're being kept out of the loop on purpose," she finally said. "Rumors are circulating that you're on the outs with the Admiralty and in danger of losing your commission. There's talk that you might be involved in some kind of…. nefarious activity."

"What?" Kirk exclaimed, thoroughly taken aback. "That's bullshit!"

"I know that Jim," Elena said, a bit sadly. "I didn't believe it for a second. But somewhere along the line, you've made some enemies. Someone is clearly trying to make your life more difficult. I just don't know who."

Kirk settled back in his chair and exhaled noisily. The Jim Kirk of two years ago would have scoffed at such rumors and barreled ahead with his mission, unconcerned with such bureaucratic nonsense as unsubstantiated rumors and ruffled feathers in the Admiralty.

But as much as he wanted to deny it, the events of the past few years had forced Jim to mature, both as a person and as a commanding officer. He knew that he could only push the envelope so far and that having support amongst the top brass back at Starfleet Command wasn't a trivial matter. So as much as he wanted to brush off any concerns of groundless accusations, he knew he probably couldn't.

Eventually, he realized Elena was speaking again. The sound of her voice brought him back to the moment at hand.

"I've been asking around," she was saying. "But I haven't been able to find out anything more definitive. But I'll do what I can."

"Well, thanks for the warning," Kirk finally said with a sigh. "And I'll see you in a few more days, I guess."

"You bet," she replied. "And Jim? Don't go getting killed or anything before we get there."

"I won't. Thanks, Elena," he said softly. "Kirk out."

And with that, he severed the communications link.

Kirk leaned back in his chair for a moment and stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. He inhaled and then exhaled slowly through his mouth. There was nothing he could do at the moment about any false rumors circulating about him. But he needed to do – something.

Kirk sat up straight and turned to the display screen in front of him. With a few quick movements of his fingers, he called up the ship's personnel records.

Perhaps it was time to look a little bit more closely at his new second officer.


	16. Chapter 16

**_AN: Thank you again to everyone who has faved/followed/commented! You give me fuel to keep writing. A few responses to comments:_**

**_finnorama - Thank you for all your kind words along the way. I appreciate it!_**

**_Afroz - Yes, pairings are coming! You've been very patient, and there are just a few more chapters before that story line starts to unfold._**

**_HeartofFyrwinde - I hope it doesn't come to that as well, but given the casting rumors for next year's Star Trek Beyond movie that just finished shooting, I felt I had to at least open that door. :(_**

**_Kiaopera9: Don't worry - this story will be completed! I have a very demanding job that takes up a lot of my time, but I am writing as fast as I can in my spare time._**

**_Now, back to business!_**

****Story Progress: 33%**

* * *

_Stardate 2261.338_

Three days later, the electromagnetic storms encircling the surface of Mitus Three had finally abated enough to allow for safe transport. With the modifications that Ensign Chekov had helped make to the transporter array, Captain Kirk was now reasonably confident that any further trips to the surface would be relatively free from danger. Now was the time to see if they could glean any further information from the abandoned settlement before Captain Rodriguez and the _California_ arrived to assist in their efforts.

From his Captain's chair on the bridge, Kirk opened a channel to the rest of the ship.

"Lieutenants Denik and Preston, please report to Transporter Room Two," he announced. "Lieutenant Kendall, please report with your security team."

Kirk hesitated, glancing up at the curly-haired man seated directly in front of him.

"Ensign Chekov," he added. "Please report to Transporter Room Two for assignment to the away team."

The young navigator was certain he had misheard. He slowly turned around in his seat.

"Captain?"

"Please report to Transporter Room Two to join the away team," Kirk repeated.

Chekov stood up and faced Kirk. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think that would be a good idea," he said, softly.

"Why not?"

Chekov cleared his throat and looked around nervously.

"Sir, I failed in my duty on the last away mission," he said, barely able to meet Kirk's gaze. "My… inability to act put everyone at risk. I would not wish to endanger anyone again."

"Mr. Chekov, are you or are you not a member of this crew?" Kirk asked, trying to look stern.

"Yes, sir," Chekov replied, shifting his weight.

"Good," Kirk replied. "Because I have complete faith in my crew, and that includes you. If anyone has a problem with you being a member of the away team, that means they are questioning my judgment as well as yours."

Kirk paused. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit softer. "Sometimes the only way forward is through, Mr. Chekov."

Chekov swallowed hard and pulled himself up to his full height, trying to convey confidence he clearly didn't feel.

"Aye, sir," he finally replied. With a last nervous glance at Lt. Sulu, Chekov slowly started walking to the turbolift, each step more leaden than the last.

At that moment, Kirk felt a sudden rush of pride in the young man. Jim Kirk was still relatively new to the Captain's chair, at least compared to the rest of the fleet, but he had quickly learned that knowing when to push those under his command was just as important as knowing when to rein them in. He was confident that Chekov would find his stride – he just might need a little encouragement along the way.

Kirk now turned to the primary science station where Spock was seated, hard at work.

The captain had hoped that his first officer would have taken more time to recover after his injury, but not surprisingly, Spock had insisted on returning to duty as soon as possible. He was still restricted to using a walking cane, but Dr. McCoy had cleared him for official duty. Kirk suspected that Bones had given his blessing as much to get Spock out of his hair as anything, but he knew the CMO wouldn't have approved the order if he genuinely felt the Vulcan wasn't up to the task.

"Mr. Spock, have you been able to make anything of those transporter signals from the planet's surface?"

"Negative," Spock replied, not looking up from his station. "I have been unable to ascertain a reason for the signals' sudden termination."

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk ordered. "Bring up the transporter relay diagnostic."

To his surprise, the helmsman didn't respond to his direction.

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk repeated, a bit louder.

The helmsman jumped in his seat.

"Sorry, Captain," Sulu replied hastily, snapping to attention. He quickly worked his console. "I was just tracking some…."

Sulu paused and then shook his head. "Never mind. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Lieutenant, I'm not willing to dismiss anything at this point, no matter how small," Kirk told him. "What is it?"

"Well, my scans revealed a distinct thoranium signature, which isn't surprising, given that we know the Amarilians were experimenting with the element," Sulu said, turning his head to address Kirk. "But this reading didn't originate on the surface. The strongest readings are coming from the exact same coordinates where the transporter signals were lost – that same point in space above the planet."

"Captain," Vanessa called out from her spot at the second science station. "Under normal circumstances, we shouldn't be reading any traces of thoranium that far away from the surface. The element's isotopic signature isn't that strong. The element itself would have had to be present at those coordinates if our sensors are picking up radiation of that magnitude."

"Can you figure out why we're getting readings at those coordinates?" Kirk asked her.

"I'll try, sir," she replied. "I'm bringing up the spectrometry readings now."

Kirk turned back to the viewscreen and stared out at the inky blackness of space. _What was out there?_

* * *

"Computer, display data record from point 342.9 through 367.5."

The ship's computer beeped to confirm the completion of its orders. A series of graphical readouts appeared on the viewscreen of Science Lab Two.

Carol Marcus leaned in closer to examine the energy wave patterns.

So far, Carol hadn't been able to make much of anything out of the heavily damaged records the away team had brought up from the surface. But from what little she had been able to extract, it didn't look like the Amarilians were attempting to harness thoranium for any kind of weapons development. She was able to identify some schematics for a reactor likely designed to control the element's reactive properties, but she couldn't decipher what its purpose was.

The only other information that she was able to recover appeared to be some kind of medical records. She couldn't interpret that data with any degree of accuracy, so she had passed the information off to Dr. McCoy in the hopes that he could provide some insight.

Without a further lead to pursue, Dr. Marcus had been forced to redirect her efforts. When Commander Bennett had mentioned that she had left her tricorder on during the initial confrontation on Mitus Three, Carol had eagerly volunteered to take a look at any information that had been captured. For the past hour, she had been sorting through the recorded data, hoping to find something useful.

"Atmospheric readings," Carol muttered as she scrolled through the tricorder's memory bank. "Spock's vitals… More environmental data…"

Suddenly, she paused. _That was interesting._

"Computer. Isolate pattern alpha delta five."

As the multiple data streams disappeared from the screen, leaving just the record in question, Carol frowned. She realized she was looking at the energy output from the weapons fire the away team had encountered. They had, of course, assumed the Amarilians were responsible, but no one had actually seen the attackers, given their vantage point high on the cliffs above the landing party.

"Computer, search ship's records for any known match to the power signature displayed in the current data stream."

"Searching," the female voice responded. After a few more seconds, a tone sounded.

"Match identified."

Carol leaned in even closer to the viewscreen. She gasped. That couldn't be right, could it? That would mean….

_Oh, shit._

Without another minute's hesitation, Carol took off at a run for the bridge.

* * *

Down on Mitus Three, the away team was once again back in the main structure at the heart of the abandoned Amarilian encampment.

Once the team had beamed down to the facility, it had taken nearly seven minutes for Ensign Chekov's hands to stop shaking, and another five minutes after that before he felt his breathing and heart rate start to settle back into something resembling a normal rhythm.

While Lieutenants Denik and Preston got to work attempting to download further data from some of the damaged computer consoles in the main hall, Chekov had wandered around nervously, peering anxiously around every corner and, more than once, jumping at the slightest sound. This behavior had earned him a few irritated looks from Lt. Preston.

Roughly twenty minutes into the mission, Chekov's anxiety had slowly given way to boredom. He figured he should make himself useful instead of slinking around like a skittish alley cat.

Denik and Preston were focusing their efforts on the largest, most centrally-located computer stations, which appeared to hold the best promise for extracting vital information. Chekov looked around the room and his eyes soon fell on a small, unobtrusive access panel located just half a meter from the floor. He dropped to his knees and pried open the panel to reveal an array of sophisticated-looking circuitry in various states of disrepair, nestled beside a diminutive display screen.

"Don't bother with that," Preston told him, rolling his eyes. "It's just low-priority systems back-up. Even if everything wasn't totally fried, there's not going to be anything useful there."

"I know," Chekov responded, choosing to ignore the derisive tone in the Lieutenant's voice. "But I just want to see….."

He trailed off as he began rerouting some of the circuitry in an attempt to compensate for the damaged relays. If he could just access the correct port over there…

With a sudden, bright flash of light, the control panel in front of him suddenly sparked to life. Chekov jumped back in surprise, but as soon as he determined he was not in danger of electrocution, he leaned back in closer to the small viewscreen, which now displayed a readout of some kind.

After a quick glance, Chekov realized he was looking at a condensed version of the facility's communications logs. The young man frowned. He wasn't a linguist, but he knew instantly that the language on the small screen in front of him wasn't Amarilian.

Suddenly, he froze as a shock of recognition hit him. He couldn't understand the meaning of the words he was looking at, but he realized that he had seen the language before – they all had.

_Oh, shit._

With shaking hands, Chekov fumbled to activate his communicator.

"Chekov to Enterprise," he called out, nearly shouting. "Lieutenant Uhura! Prepare for incoming transmission!"

* * *

Back on the bridge, Uhura acknowledged Chekov's message.

"Captain," she announced. "Ensign Chekov is transmitting some communication logs he accessed down on the surface. He seems to think they are of some importance."

Uhura's dark eyes quickly scanned the screen in front of her as she received the incoming logs.

"Oh, shit," she said, lowly.

"Lieutenant?" Kirk asked, stepping closer to his Communications Chief.

"Sir, these transmission logs are all in Klingon." Uhura turned around in her chair to face Kirk.

"Captain, they were here, on this planet," she replied, her face serious. "Klingons were here."

And with those words, Kirk felt everything around him suddenly grind to a halt.

"Captain, Romulans were here," another voice called out.

Kirk turned to see a breathless Dr. Marcus standing on the bridge, a concerned look on her attractive face.

"Sir, I analyzed the data Dr. Bennett recorded down on the surface," she conveyed, breathing heavily. "I matched the energy output patterns from the weapons fire the team encountered. They were produced by Romulan disruptors."

Kirk's mind was reeling. What the hell was going on around here? Klingons? Romulans? Both? Here on Mitus Three? That didn't make sense. The Klingons and Romulans hated each other almost as much as they hated the Federation. Why would they…..

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk snapped, turning back to the helmsman. "Get the away team back to the ship immediately."

"Aye, Captain," Sulu responded, moving quickly to signal the team to beam back up.

"Scan the area for any sign of enemy vessels," Kirk ordered, his eyes darting up to the ship's forward viewscreen.

"No sign of any ships in the area," Sulu informed him.

"Captain," Spock announced from his station. The Vulcan's voice almost had an edge to it. "If the Romulans are in fact involved, that may suggest an explanation for the disappearing transporter signals. It is possible that some parties on the surface beamed directly onto a cloaked ship at the coordinates we identified. That would also explain the origin of the thoranium signatures we are detecting at that location."

"So you're telling me a Romulan ship has been in orbit around Mitus Three all this time and we haven't picked up on it?" Kirk asked, examining the dark expanse of space onscreen, willing his eyes to see an invisible ship.

"That is a distinct possibility," Spock answered. "To the best of our knowledge, Romulans are one of the only civilizations that possess mobile cloaking technology."

"Captain, if there was another starship, I don't think they're here anymore," Vanessa called from the other side of the bridge. "I've been looking at the thoranium signatures that Mr. Sulu discovered. If those readings did come from a cloaked ship, Romulan or otherwise, it looks like they might have left the area more than 72 hours ago."

"How can you tell?" Kirk asked.

"Sensor logs show a heightened thoranium profile originating at those same coordinates roughly one hour after the Enterprise arrived at Mitus Three," Vanessa answered, her fingers still working her console. "The radioactive signature then began to decay roughly three days ago. That would fit the pattern of the ship leaving the area at that time."

"The Commander's calculations are correct," Spock confirmed, as he verified the data from his location. "However, it is curious that we can still detect the signature even now. Such readings would seem to indicate that the thoranium in question was involved in a live reaction on board the ship."

"Of course!" Carol suddenly called out. "That's why I couldn't make any sense of the reactor schematics we found on the surface. The Amarilians, or whoever, weren't trying to weaponize the thoranium – they were trying to power a cloaking device with it. That would explain why we were getting such concentrated readings from the cloaked ship."

"That is a fascinating hypothesis, Doctor," Spock replied, raising his eyebrows. "You may be correct."

"But this configuration suggests a very rudimentary cloaking construct," Vanessa chimed in. "Cloaking technology isn't much use if you generate an isotopic signature that can identify your position. Their ship is basically leaking thoranium, for lack of a better description."

"So maybe it's not the Romulans after all," Uhura offered. "But someone trying to replicate their technology."

Kirk looked thoughtful for a moment. "Could that ship have anything to do with the two _Alpha One_ priority transmissions that were sent from the Enterprise?"

"Unknown, sir," Uhura replied.

Suddenly, Vanessa jerked her head up. "Two transmissions?" she asked, looking slightly confused.

Kirk looked at her with sudden interest. "Does that mean something to you, Commander?"

"No," she replied hastily, looking back down at her workstation. "I…. just wasn't aware of that."

"Captain," Spock said, as he finished analyzing some data. "I believe we may be able to track the path the cloaked ship has taken. If we initiate a continuous tachyon sweep, we should be able to follow the isotopic signature left behind by the vessel."

With a quick motion, Kirk reached out and activated the comm from the control panel on the Captain's chair.

"Scotty, report to the bridge," he called out. Kirk was pacing now, deep in thought.

"Captain," Spock repeated, unsure if his commanding officer had heard him or not. "Our sensors should be able to track the thoranium trail, but the radioactive signature is decaying at a rapid rate. I estimate that we will completely lose the ability to detect the trail in another six to eight hours."

A look passed over Jim Kirk's face. It was a look most of his crew recognized by now.

"Captain, I must remind you that we are due to rendezvous with the _California_ in a few more days," Vanessa said, appearing slightly alarmed.

"If we wait for the _California_, we're going to lose the trail completely," Sulu said, shaking his head.

"And any chance of finding out what happened to the rest of the Amarilian colony," Uhura added.

"But our orders were to let the_ California_ investigate, not follow a hostile ship on a wild goose chase," Vanessa insisted. She looked to Spock for support. "Commander, surely you see the danger in pursuing the enemy ship."

The Vulcan struggled to his feet, reaching for his nearby cane to help him stand. Everyone on the bridge, including the Captain, now looked to the first officer.

"Commander Bennett is correct," Spock intoned. "Pursuing an unknown vessel with cloaking capabilities into relatively unexplored space is highly risky. The Federation has negotiated a very fragile peace with the Klingons, and our relations with the Romulans are similarly strained. If either of these factions are involved, we risk the possibility of provoking war with another encounter."

Vanessa visibly relaxed in her chair. But Spock wasn't done.

"However," Spock continued. "The Amarilians are now an endangered species, not unlike Vulcans. If we leave them to their fate, it is likely they will disappear from all known existence. The Enterprise and her crew represent the only meaningful hope of survival for their entire race."

"The question is," Kirk said, more to himself than to anyone else. "Does their right to survival outweigh the risk of getting the Federation entangled in an all-out war?"

A thick tension settled over the bridge, as the implications of that question weighed heavily on all present.

Just then, the turbolift doors opened to reveal Scotty, along with Dr. McCoy and Ensign Chekov. The three men stepped onto the bridge, and Chekov quickly moved back to take his place at Navigation.

Kirk nodded to him. "Good work, Mr. Chekov," he said. "We're sure glad you decided to join the away team today."

"Yes, sir," Chekov replied, with a hint of a smile. He felt he hadn't completely redeemed himself, but it was a small victory nonetheless.

Kirk turned to Scotty, ready to question his Chief Engineer, but Dr. McCoy cut him off.

"Jim, we have a problem," McCoy said, his face grim. He waved the PADD he was holding in Kirk's general direction. "I've taken a look at some of the medical logs the Amarilians kept. They were particularly interested in anatomy – human anatomy."

Kirk's mind worked quickly, trying to quantify the potential ramifications. "Could they have been trying to create some kind of biological weapon?"

"I don't know," McCoy admitted. "But they were studying up for some reason. And I don't like it."

"So that means the Klingons likely have whatever information the Amarilians were able to develop," Uhura offered.

"Or the Romulans," Carol added.

"Klingons?" Scotty squeaked out, his eyes wide. "Romulans? Did I miss something?"

"We all missed something," Kirk said, gesturing to the darkness of space on the forward viewscreen. "A cloaked ship in orbit, watching us, all this time. But thanks to some shoddy engineering on their part, we think we might be able to track their movements."

"Captain, the presence of either the Klingons or the Romulans, or both parties, would explain the attack we encountered on the surface," Spock explained. "Given the pacifist nature of the Amarilian race, it is highly unlikely they would have initiated such an assault. Furthermore, I believe it is highly implausible that they are acting of their own accord in carrying out their scientific work on Mitus Three."

"So you think the rest of the Amarilian colony was… taken hostage?" McCoy asked, putting the pieces together. "And those left behind here were being forced to develop technology to help the abductors?"

"It is the most logical conclusion, Doctor," Spock replied.

"And the only way we can find out for sure is if we go after that ship," Kirk explained.

"Which is in direct violation of our orders… again," Vanessa added, emphasizing the last word.

"Captain, we can't just abandon the Amarilians," Uhura said, softly.

"Mr. Scott," Kirk said, turning to his Chief Engineer. "Has the damage to Engineering been repaired?"

"Aye, sir," Scotty replied.

"Do we know what happened?"

Scotty sighed in frustration and shook his head. "No, sir. And I take full responsibility for that. I don't know what initiated the system failure. And that means I can't guarantee it won't happen again."

"Understood," Kirk replied somberly.

"Captain," Vanessa interjected. "If our hypothesis is correct and we go after that ship, they've already had several days of a head start on us. With only a general trajectory to go on, it would be like trying to follow a trail of bread crumbs in the forest. It could take us weeks, or even months, to actually catch up with them. Trust me on that."

"Can I?" Kirk said quietly, taking a step closer to his second officer.

"Can you what?" Vanessa replied.

"Trust you," Kirk answered, leaning in even closer.

"Of... of course, sir," Vanessa stammered, her face coloring slightly.

Kirk looked into the woman's eyes for a moment longer, and then turned back to face to the ship's forward viewscreen.

"Mr. Chekov, based on the thoranium signature's bearing, what was the last known heading of the cloaked ship?"

"173-mark-229," the navigator answered. "Heading deeper into the Beta Quadrant."

"Further away from any Federation help," Sulu added. "We'd be on our own."

For a brief moment, Jim Kirk closed his eyes. He felt the tug of that all-too-familiar gut instinct – that inexplicable feeling that hadn't led him astray so far.

"Captain," Spock prompted.

"Jim," Bones said.

His decision was made. He opened his eyes.

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk said, his mouth set firm.

His helmsman looked at him expectantly. For a few seconds, everyone on the bridge held their breath.

"Set course in pursuit of the enemy ship," Kirk ordered. "Take us out. Full impulse."

"Aye, sir."

_Sorry, Elena_, Kirk thought silently. As he sat back down in the Captain's chair, Kirk was aware of several sets of eyes – his crew's eyes – on him. For just a moment, he felt the heavy burden of his command. He could only hope he was making the right decision.

Whatever they had stumbled into back on that Kasian moon so many months ago, Kirk had a feeling that the real scope of the situation was far bigger than any of them realized. They had pulled on a thread and everything around them was coming unraveled.

Whatever was waiting for them out there in the vast reaches of space, the crew of the Enterprise would face it head on.

**END OF PART ONE**


	17. Chapter 17

****Story Progress: 35%  
**

* * *

_Stardate 2261.361_

Vanessa Bennett opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the familiar surroundings of her living quarters. The soft glow of the Vulcan meditation lamp was a welcome beacon in the dark room as she began to acclimate herself back to the real world from her meditative state.

It had been just over three weeks since the Enterprise had left orbit around Mitus Three in pursuit of the mysterious cloaked ship – or at least what they all assumed was a cloaked ship. While they hadn't been able to actually verify the presence of such a vessel, the numerous course changes the Enterprise had had to make to continue to follow the thoranium signature seemed to confirm that they were not tracking some kind of naturally-occurring phenomenon.

Fortunately, as the days progressed, the tension level around the ship had dissipated somewhat. While the crew was still on alert and fully aware that they were traveling deeper into relatively uncharted space, the feeling of imminent danger had subsided – at least for now.

From her seated position on the floor of her room, Vanessa heard the beep from her video communicator. With a final deep exhale, she pulled herself up and moved over to the seat at her desk.

"Lights," she ordered. The room immediately brightened in response. She acknowledged the incoming encoded message.

Her viewscreen jumped to life and she found herself looking into the stern face of Admiral Janice Davison. For some reason, a small knot of dread worked its way into Vanessa's stomach.

"Commander," Admiral Davison greeted her, unsmiling. "It's been a while since your last report. I wondered if perhaps you had fallen into a black hole somewhere."

While the Admiral probably meant to convey a sense of amusement, Vanessa felt there wasn't much genuine humor behind her words.

"My apologies, sir," Vanessa replied, sitting up a bit straighter. "However, there hasn't been much of anything to report. We're still pursuing what we believe to be an enemy ship further into the Beta Quadrant."

"Yes, Captain Kirk's latest report indicates that the Enterprise is _currently tracking an unknown isotopic_ _signature of questionable origin_," Davison told her, reading from a PADD she had picked up. "No mention of any alien ships."

Vanessa winced at her commanding officer's lie of omission. "Well, that's technically true," she offered.

"And you haven't been able to verify the nature of this… enemy ship?"

"No," Vanessa admitted. "We're basically flying blind, and still a significant distance behind them - if there even is a ship."

Davison settled back in her chair. "I see. And have you been able to make any headway in your…. original assignment?"

Vanessa sighed. "No. To be honest, I think we might be barking up the wrong tree here. I just haven't found any evidence…"

"Commander, our intelligence suggests the evidence is there, even if it is well-hidden." The Admiral leaned forward and looked more intently at Vanessa. "I should think you would be more eager to expose the man responsible for your husband's death," she said, somewhat unfeelingly.

Vanessa bristled visibly and struggled to keep her voice neutral. "With all due respect, sir, the man responsible for my husband's death is lying frozen in a cryotube inside a high-security Starfleet medical lab."

Davison blinked, but her expression didn't falter. "Starfleet Intelligence indicates that Khan was not acting alone. You know that. More than two years of investigation is at stake here."

"Understood," Vanessa replied. "You're just… putting me in a difficult position. I'm not entirely sure Kirk trusts me."

"Well, it is your job to ensure that he does trust you," Davison replied, sternly. "The safety and security of the Enterprise, and perhaps much of Starfleet, depends on it."

Vanessa nodded and paused, considering her next words. She thought again of the two encrypted messages the Captain said were sent from the Enterprise back near Mitus Three.

"Admiral," she asked, cautiously. "Is there anything else you're not telling me?"

Davison's ebony face was impassive. "Commander, rest assured that you have been informed of all the facts relevant to your current mission. If you feel you are unsuited to the task, I am perfectly willing to facilitate your reassignment."

For a moment, the two women stared at each other from across the distance.

"That won't be necessary, Admiral," Vanessa finally said, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at this time, Commander," Davison replied curtly. "I'll expect your status report shortly. Davison out."

And with that, the link was terminated. Vanessa sighed and leaned back in her chair.

Something just wasn't sitting right with her. For the first time since she had stepped on board the Enterprise, she felt conflicted. She wasn't entirely sure if she was doing the right thing.

Just then, she happened to notice the time. She cursed under her breath.

She was going to be late for her shift on the bridge.

* * *

Fortunately, Alpha shift that day was fairly uneventful. The thoranium signature they were tracking had weakened notably over the past few days, so the Captain had ordered the Enterprise to drop to one-quarter impulse power until a stronger signal heading could be identified.

Vanessa was seated at the second science station, deep in discussion with Scotty about the latest modifications they had made to the ship's port plasma relays.

"Energy output is steady, although we can probably still reinforce the conduit stabilizer," Scotty was saying as he studied the readings on the screen in front of them. "I can reassign Lieutenant Jayson to handle that. Although I'd like to put off any major modifications until after the Captain's birthday party next week. The crew has really been looking forward to that."

"The Captain's birthday party?" Vanessa asked, frowning.

"Yes, we celebrate every year," Scotty told her. "It's basically an excuse for the crew to get together and drink and remember that we have lives beyond our duties."

"I was aware of the party," Vanessa replied, sneaking a glance at the back of Kirk's head. "But I had assumed that we wouldn't be moving ahead with it in light of…. everything that has happened recently."

Kirk, overhearing the discussion behind him, stood up from the command chair and turned to face the two officers.

"Technically, it's a celebration in honor of the day the U.S.S. Kelvin was destroyed," Kirk said. "And in remembrance of my father, George Kirk, who died saving the crew that day. But since that also happens to be my birthday, that's how the gathering is known around the Enterprise."

"Captain, I have to wonder if this is appropriate," Vanessa said, turning in her seat to face Kirk. "I want to honor the Kelvin and its crew as much as any member of Starfleet. But we just lost a valued member of our own crew a few weeks ago. We're attempting to track a potentially hostile starship in fairly unexplored space and your response is to…. throw a party?"

Kirk exhaled loudly and threw up his hands in frustration. "Jesus, Bennett," he said, shaking his head. "Can you possibly lighten up for two seconds? It wouldn't kill you to act like a normal human being, would it?"

Everyone around them on the bridge now turned to look at the interaction taking place. Scotty, standing beside Vanessa, looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Vanessa felt stung by his words. If Kirk had critiqued her performance or questioned her scientific theories, that was one thing. She knew how to respond and defend herself. But this felt more personal. And, she realized, there was probably more than a grain of truth to his words. Vanessa found she was unable to look anywhere except down at the floor.

Having heard the conversation from his station and noting the woman's obvious discomfort, Spock felt it might be useful to offer a less emotionally-charged rationale.

"Doctor," Spock announced. "Prior study has proven the beneficial effects of occasional recreational respites for the crew. Such intermissions have been shown to increase long-term productivity. And I do not believe, in this particular case, that such an observation would be improper."

Now Vanessa felt even worse. She considered the absurdity of the situation. She never thought she'd see the day when a Vulcan, of all people, was basically telling her to loosen up.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Spock," she muttered, staring straight ahead at the forward viewscreen.

Kirk exhaled again, eager to end the situation. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Commander, why don't you and Scotty finish up in Engineering. It might be easier for you both to work from there."

Scotty looked relieved at the out the Captain was offering. "Aye, sir," he said.

"Yes, sir," Vanessa echoed, equally eager to escape the moment.

She stood up from her chair and turned to follow Scotty to the nearest turbolift, purposely avoiding meeting anyone's gaze. The two officers entered the lift.

"Deck Fifteen," Scotty commanded after the doors had closed. A somewhat uncomfortable silence descended in the small space.

Suddenly, Vanessa buried her face in her hands and let out an anguished sigh. "God, Scotty, why does everyone hate me?" she mumbled into her hands.

She looked up, her expression pained. Scotty looked at her sympathetically. She sighed again and shook her head. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Scotty felt a sudden need to reassure the woman. "No one hates you," he said quickly. She gave him a pointed, disbelieving look.

"Well…. hate is a strong word," he added hesitantly. The woman groaned again and smacked her palms to her face.

"Computer, pause." Scotty ordered the turbolift. The lift obliged, smoothly coming to a barely noticeable halt with a beep to signal its compliance. Vanessa looked questioningly at the engineer.

Scotty turned to face her. "Look, lass, we all know you're incredibly smart, a real go-getter, and a terrific Starfleet officer. You've got everyone's total respect aboard the Enterprise."

He stopped and considered his next words. "But there's more to being in command than just giving orders and being the smartest person in the room. Crew members will do their duty for you, but your friends… well, your friends will lay down their life for you. There's a difference."

Vanessa sighed. "I know. It just… I don't…." She broke off, frustrated.

Scotty smiled at her. "I think you just need to get out of your head for a little bit and get to know the lot of us. Give us a chance. We don't bite. Well, I can't speak for Dr. McCoy on that one," he joked.

That earned a small smile from Vanessa. "Yeah, you're right," she said. "The Captain's right. Things have just been kind of… hard lately."

"I know Lt. Michaels was a friend of yours," Scotty said kindly. "He was one of my best engineers and a damn good man. We'll miss him every day down in Engineering. But getting on with your life doesn't mean that you forget about his."

Vanessa knew Scotty was referring to Lt. Michaels, but his words cut right to the heart of another, much deeper loss. She had grieved her husband for so long, she didn't even remember what life had felt like… before. Vanessa knew that she needed to move on, but she just didn't know how. And she was more than a little scared at the prospect.

Scotty noticed the pensive look on the woman's face. "Look, why don't you come next week?" he said. "It will be a great chance to get to know the crew away from work, so to speak. Everyone will be there. I'm sure the whole gang would like it if you came."

Vanessa looked at Scotty, finding his face open and honest. She found it hard to believe she had once thought so poorly of him based on the misunderstood conversation she had overheard her first day. She felt a stab of shame thinking back to their initial interaction at the mission briefing.

"And if you do show up, I think it will be within my power to procure a drink for you," Scotty added with a mock-serious look. "I'll have to call in some favors, but I think it can be arranged."

Vanessa let the wheels in her mind turn for a bit. _It might not be so bad, _she thought. _What's the worst that could happen – you might actually enjoy yourself?_

"Well," she said finally. "I guess it couldn't hurt. And if the first drink is on you, I suppose I can't refuse."

Scotty beamed and clapped his hands together. "Excellent! The more the merrier, I always say." He smiled at her with excitement, which Vanessa couldn't help but feel was contagious. She found herself returning his smile.

"Oh!" Scotty suddenly remembered. "Computer, resume." The turbolift whirred back to life, and the two occupants resumed their journey.

Suddenly, a small laugh bubbled up from within her and escaped Vanessa's lips.

"What?" Scotty asked, confused.

"You thought I was hideous," she said, still smiling. "Well, not totally hideous, just half hideous." She looked at the Chief Engineer, a playful smirk on her face. "Remember that?"

Scotty's face was quickly turning the same shade of red as his uniform. He coughed nervously. "I… uh… don't recall that…."

Vanessa laughed again. "I do. What a greeting on my first day on a new ship." Seeing the distressed look on the engineer's face, she added, "It's okay. I think I can forgive you."

The turbolift gradually slowed down as it approached Deck Fifteen. The doors opened.

"Just so you know," Scotty said, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't think you're hideous at all."

Vanessa chuckled. "Well, thank you. I'll make a note of that in my status report."

As they exited the turbolift and headed toward Engineering, Vanessa turned her thoughts back to the party. Maybe getting out of her comfort zone a little bit would do her some good. She hoped she still remembered how to actually have fun. It had been so long….

As the pair continued their work in Engineering, Vanessa found her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming event. She was just distracted enough that she didn't notice the occasional lingering side glances thrown her way by her companion.


	18. Chapter 18

****Story Progress: 38%**

* * *

_Stardate 2262.04_

The Enterprise mess hall, the largest space for crew gatherings on the ship, was decked out in full party regalia - which, for a starship with limited space for non-essential equipment, consisted of a few dozen colorful, helium-filled balloons floating in groups of four or five around the room, tethered to chairs. Someone had also managed to round up a giant, inflatable eight-foot palm tree which sat in the middle of the room, managing somehow to look simultaneously ridiculous and endearing. Loud, upbeat music played over the room's communications system.

Jim Kirk was in his full glory, working the room and chatting with his crew. Always one to mix business with pleasure, he had been eagerly looking forward to this event. He enjoyed seeing everyone dressed up a little in non-regulation attire for a change. He shook hands, gave a few hugs, flirted a bit, and danced with several particularly attractive female ensigns.

After an hour of mingling and pressing the flesh, Kirk wound his way back to the table reserved for him and the other senior officers. He sat down next to Dr. McCoy, who was nursing a glass of bourbon and observing the festivities with a somewhat cynical eye.

"Bones, you're still sitting in the same place you were an hour ago," Kirk said to the older man, clapping him on the shoulder. "Why aren't you up dancing and having a good time?"

McCoy grimaced, although whether it was at the thought of dancing or having a good time, Kirk wasn't sure.

"I'm just fine here," he said gruffly. "Someone needs to keep an eye on all of you to make sure no one drinks themselves to death."

Kirk smiled and muttered under his breath, "Does the good doctor take his own advice?"

"What?" McCoy's head snapped up.

"Never mind. So, I noticed our new second officer hasn't made an appearance yet," Kirk noted, changing the subject. "I was hoping she'd grace us with her presence." He paused, then grinned. "She's a bit of a tough cookie, isn't she?"

McCoy sloshed the amber liquid around in his glass and smirked. "She hasn't fallen prey to the old Kirk charm is what you mean. I guess she's got even more brains than I gave her credit for."

Kirk smiled. "Come on, Bones. Sometimes a man has to make his own fun when we're all trapped in a tin can together for years on end."

"I've had enough of Jim Kirk's 'fun' to last me a lifetime," McCoy replied. "Usually it ends up with me racing to save your life after you discover something new that you have an allergy to." The doctor took another swig of his drink.

"What's the Captain allergic to now?" Scotty asked as he returned to the table with a drink in each hand. He sat down next to the two men.

"Abstinence, apparently," McCoy said with a straight face.

Scotty laughed. "Aye, that is a terrible affliction. One that tends to grate on a red-blooded man after long stretches of time."

"I don't know, Bones seems to be holding up pretty well," Kirk teased his friend.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and get me another drink?" McCoy said, pushing his now-empty glass toward Jim.

"Hey, it's my birthday. I thought my crew was supposed to spring for me," Kirk replied.

As if reading his mind, Chekov came walking swiftly over to the table, followed by Sulu and Carol Marcus, who had been dancing together. The young man was carrying two drinks. He placed one in front of the Captain.

"I saw you were empty-handed sir, and thought I should take immediate action." Chekov saluted with his free hand.

"Well done, Mr. Chekov. This action will be noted in your personnel file, with high commendation," Kirk told him, lifting the glass to his lips. He couldn't tell exactly what the drink was, which was the first sign that the evening was sure to be a roaring success. But if he wasn't mistaken, he detected the delightful buzz of genuine alcohol, not the standard-issue synthehol that was typically served on Federation starships.

"Captain, I do hope you have a somewhat…. less demanding schedule tomorrow," Sulu noted, eyeing the Captain's drink.

"Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant," Kirk replied, gesturing to the officer. "And I am happy to remind you that everyone at this table is off duty tomorrow. So, drink up. Captain's orders!"

Sulu shook his head. He knew exactly what tomorrow would bring – Jim in the Med Bay, barely able to open his eyes while Dr. McCoy discreetly injected him with a hypo to mitigate the effects of a massive hangover. He could only hope that no more untimely disasters would befall the ship before its Captain managed to regain his senses.

_Now, if I were Captain…_ Sulu started to think to himself.

But he wouldn't finish the thought, as Scotty suddenly exclaimed, "Great galloping galaxies!"

Sulu, and everyone else at the table, followed Scotty's line of sight and turned toward the mess hall entrance. There, in the middle of the room, looking somewhat lost, stood Vanessa Bennett. She was wearing a knee-length red dress which accentuated her figure. Her dark hair, normally restrained in a tight bun, was down and flowed in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. She appeared to be wearing more make-up than usual, and looked quite stunning.

Most of the rest of the crowd had also noticed her entrance, and a slight hush fell over the room. The crew was used to seeing the professional, somewhat serious Operations Chief around the Enterprise, but this was an entirely different, more feminine version of the Commander.

Vanessa was not unaware of the eyes upon her as she stepped into the room. She stopped in the middle of the hall, suddenly very uncomfortable. She felt unguarded and unprotected without her uniform and her rank. When she was Commander Bennett, she could give orders and command respect. Right now, she was just a girl in a red dress that hadn't been worn in years and she was starting to feel a bit silly. It had taken her almost half an hour of getting up her nerve before she even made it out of her quarters wearing the damn thing. She briefly considered turning around and walking back out of the room, but her feet seemed to be suddenly glued to the floor.

Just then, Vanessa noticed Jim Kirk walking towards her, a wide smile on his face. She never thought she would feel so grateful for the Captain's attention. He stepped up to her and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. He kissed her hand.

"Commander Bennett, you do look ravishing. May I escort you to your table?" he asked, gesturing to the table of senior officers.

Vanessa's first impulse was to give her usual tight smile and defer politely. But she had come here to have fun and loosen up a bit. There was no harm in that, right? She decided then and there to forget about business for a few hours and to just focus on getting to know the individuals she served with as people, not positions.

"Why Captain, I would be delighted," she said, offering him a dazzling smile. Kirk looked almost taken aback for half a second, but he quickly recovered and wrapped her arm around his. The pair walked back to the table where the senior officers were gathered.

"Gentlemen, and Dr. Marcus, may I present the most beautiful second officer the Enterprise has ever seen," Kirk announced to the table of still-surprised occupants.

"Okay, I'll pretend I'm not hurt by that," Sulu said, clutching at his heart in mock pain.

Vanessa smiled. "Mr. Sulu, I may look better in a dress, but I am quite sure you could give me a run for my money in the good hair department," she said. Sulu grinned in response.

"Doctor Bennett, you are a vision," Scotty said, his smile a mile wide. "The stars in the very heavens pale in comparison."

Vanessa smiled at Scotty's cheesy attempt at poetry. "Why thank you, Mr. Scott. I hope you haven't forgotten about that drink you owe me." She winked at the Scotsman, surprising even herself.

"Coming right up, m' lady," Scotty replied with a slight bow. He turned and quickly headed off in the direction of the makeshift bar.

Just then, Uhura and Spock, who had been engaged in a slow dance, the former somewhat more enthusiastically than the latter, joined the group. Uhura took in Vanessa's appearance and smiled widely.

"Commander, you look lovely," Uhura told her. "I didn't realize your hair was so long."

Vanessa felt herself relaxing a bit more. "Thank you," she said.

She noted Uhura's dress – black, short, rather tight. She looked absolutely amazing, and Vanessa couldn't help but feel just a little bit dowdy in comparison. But she shook the thought from her mind and smiled back at the woman.

"You look pretty fabulous yourself," she said, sincerely.

"Commander, your appearance is…. most radically altered," Spock noted, looking somewhat pensive.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," she said with a confused half-smile. "Coming from you, I think that's a compliment."

"For a Vulcan, I think that's practically a marriage proposal," Carol joked, taking the woman's arm and directing her to a seat at the table.

Vanessa sat down with Dr. Marcus, and Kirk quickly settled in next to the two women. Uhura and Spock sat down as well. Scotty soon returned with a drink and placed it in Vanessa's eager hands.

"Thank you," she told him.

"We're all glad you decided to join us," Scotty told her, his eyes confirming his words.

"Well, I confess I almost didn't come, but I figured there was no excuse. Other than my fear of ripping this dress wide open when I sat down, that is," Vanessa joked. She had packed exactly two dresses for her life aboard the Enterprise, and this one was the more form-fitting of the two.

While everyone laughed, Spock surveyed Vanessa from across the table. He noted that she looked considerably more at ease than she had since she had come on board. Spock was satisfied that she appeared to be easily engaging with the crew in a more casual setting. When not confined by the regulated life and duties of Starfleet service, the Commander was almost… charming. Spock realized he had been staring at her when Nyota cleared her throat to get his attention and shot him an amused glance. He quickly readjusted his gaze to focus on a more neutral target.

Kirk leaned over to the woman. "Well, Commander," he started to say, already slurring his words just a bit.

"Vanessa," she corrected. Surely tonight she could be just Vanessa Bennett.

"Vanessa," Kirk said with a wink. "I hope you're here to have a good time. We like to do things a little bit differently here on the Enterprise."

"So I'm learning," she said, with a grin. She took another sip of her drink and felt the alcohol warm her veins.

Surely being a little different for one night wouldn't be so bad. Would it?

* * *

An hour later, Vanessa had somehow found herself in an arm wrestling match with Ensign Chekov as the rest of the senior officers cheered them both on. She didn't quite remember how she had gotten from discussing warp theory with the young ensign to their right arms being locked in mortal combat, but the progression from one point to the other had seemed logical enough at one point.

As the group cheered and took bets on the winner, she could feel her arm weakening. With a last triumphant yell, Chekov slammed the woman's forearm back on to the table. A cheer erupted from the table as Sulu and Scotty clapped to congratulate the victor.

Chekov's smile quickly turned to concern. "I did not hurt you, did I?" he asked, suddenly remembering that he had just physically overpowered a ranking officer.

Vanessa rubbed her defeated appendage and smiled. "No worries, Mr. Chekov. You've bested me fair and square. The only thing injured is my pride."

"Then may I offer you a dance as a consolation prize?" Chekov stood and offered his hand to the woman.

Everyone seated at the table was suddenly silent, surprised by the young man's boldness. Arm wrestling was one thing, but slow dancing was quite another. They all waited for her response.

Maybe it was all the alcohol, but Vanessa was truly enjoying herself for the first time in a while. _Why the heck not_, she thought.

"Mr. Chekov, I would be honored," she said, taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor.

"Well, the kid's got balls, that's for sure," Scotty noted, watching the couple dancing together.

"Mr. Scott, you sound jealous," Kirk teased.

"Nay, not jealous, but I think if she's going to dance with anyone, it should be someone her own age, don't you think?" Scotty questioned.

"Absolutely," Kirk replied, giving the engineer a friendly poke in the ribs. "And you can get in line right behind me. It's my birthday, after all."

Scotty rolled his eyes. "Aye, if you weren't my captain, I think I'd just as soon punch you in the face," he quipped good-naturedly. He turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, if you promise your Vulcan boyfriend won't do that neck pinch thing on me, I'd love to have your company on the dance floor."

"Mr. Scott, I think I can guarantee your safety for one song," Uhura told him, winking at her boyfriend as she took Scotty's offered hand.

Back on the dance floor, Vanessa chatted casually with Chekov as they swayed to the music. He was a delightful companion, if a bit naïve and overeager. But she found it rather charming. He was a good kid, and no doubt an extremely intelligent one as well. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually danced anywhere, and found she had actually missed it.

No sooner had the song finished and they returned to the table than Kirk had his hand outstretched.

"May I have the next dance?" he asked, his usual megawatt smile even brighter than usual.

Vanessa couldn't help but return the smile, although she immediately felt guilty about it. She took Kirk's hand and headed back out onto the dance floor, trying to balance the conflicting thoughts swirling in her mind.

Not surprisingly, Kirk moved much more confidently than Chekov. As they made their way around the dance floor, Kirk's hand around her waist and her arm around his shoulder, Vanessa felt her defenses slipping away, no doubt aided by the several drinks she had put down so far. She quickly found herself imagining they were dancing just as two acquaintances, not as Starfleet officers that would, all too soon, be back in the line of duty.

"So are you having a good time?" Kirk asked her, his blue eyes peering out from behind lids made heavy from drink.

"Actually I am," Vanessa admitted. She threw her dance partner a teasing look. "I guess even I can act like a normal human being every now and then, huh?"

Kirk laughed and almost managed to look a little chagrined. "Ah, you won't hold that against me, will you?"

"Hmmm," Vanessa replied, pretending to ponder her answer. "I guess I can forgive you. As long as you promise not to call me out in front of the _entire_ crew the next time I'm being a stick-in-the-mud."

"You know something, Bennett?" Kirk said, his words slurring slightly. "You're not half bad once you're out of your uniform."

Vanessa arched an eyebrow at her captain, trying to hide her amusement.

"Well, you know what I mean," he said with a grin, only pretending to look embarrassed. "I'll bet you didn't do a lot of dancing when you were serving on the _Ulysses_, did you?"

She laughed in reply. "Oh, definitely not," she said. "It's been years. I probably haven't danced since…."

She suddenly trailed off and the smile fell from her face. _Since my wedding_, Vanessa had been about to say. But the words caught in her throat.

Just inches away from her, she felt Kirk suddenly tense up. When she glanced back at him, he seemed suddenly sober, looking intently at her face, his expression serious.

"Well, it's been a while," she finally offered, forcing a half-smile to her face.

"Of course," Kirk replied, his eyes still on hers, his gaze searching for… something.

The pair continued to chat amicably for the remainder of the song, but the mood had shifted between them, and Vanessa wasn't quite sure why. But she quickly forgot about the incident with the consumption of another drink – or two – as the evening progressed.

In the next hour or so between the faster sets, Vanessa danced with Scotty and then with Sulu. Scotty was a decent enough dancer, although he did step on her feet twice. "Sorry about that," he said both times. He seemed a little bit nervous, although maybe she was just imagining that.

Sulu was easily the best dancer of the evening, and she told him so as he spun her around and back into his arms.

"Well, it's kind of a secret, but in addition to fencing, I did take a class or two in ballroom dancing back in the day," he told her as he lowered her in a slight dip.

"Not at Starfleet?" Vanessa asked, eyes wide, as Sulu pulled her back up.

"No, it was off-campus" he replied, smiling. "But I have to say, I got pretty good at it. If an away mission ever calls for a cover as a dance expert, I'll be first in line for consideration."

Vanessa laughed and as Sulu turned her once again, her gaze fell on Kirk and Carol Marcus, who were dancing together a few feet away. She examined the pair for a moment. Carol was staring up at Kirk with a shy smile on her face.

_Uh oh_, Vanessa thought. She recognized the symptoms of yet another woman falling under the spell of Kirk's charm and deep blue eyes. She frowned. She hated to think of a nice woman like Dr. Marcus being another temporary distraction for Jim Kirk. But there was nothing she could do about it at the moment.

After the dance ended, Vanessa and Sulu returned to the table. Vanessa reached for another drink – who kept bringing them to the table? – and practically gulped it down. She flopped back in her chair to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a bit tussled, and she was walking that fine line between being buzzed and being drunk. She was having fun, and it felt really good. She looked around and observed the rest of the senior command team having a good time as well, dancing, drinking, and enjoying the moment.

Spock, of course, did not imbibe. It was hard to tell if he was enjoying his time as much as everyone else since his calm countenance reflected neither joy nor displeasure. However, she felt she knew him well enough to tell that he was satisfied with everyone else's enjoyment. She saw how he touched the small of Uhura's back as they stood next to each other. It was very subtle, but she noticed it nonetheless. She felt an unexpected tug in her chest and she wasn't quite sure why.

Suddenly, Vanessa felt her eyes start to well up with tears. She had no idea what precipitated the sudden, unwelcome display of emotion. She made every effort to fight the tears back down, and surreptitiously looked around the table to make sure no one had noticed.

She suddenly realized that Doctor McCoy was still seated at the table. While he had chatted with the senior officers and some of his medical staff throughout the night, she couldn't remember seeing him dancing at all that evening. He now appeared fixated on his half-finished drink.

Eager to distract herself from the emotions lurking at the periphery of her consciousness, she forced a smile onto her face and leaned over and addressed McCoy. "Doctor, do you dance?"

McCoy looked up, a bit surprised at her request. "Not if I can help it," he intoned, turning back to finish off his drink.

"Really?" Vanessa replied. "You mean to tell me that Mr. Spock over there, with all his Vulcan logic, is more willing to dance than you?" She gestured in Spock's direction, which prompted a confused look from the first officer as he realized he was a topic of conversation.

"And you wouldn't make an exception for a newcomer to the Enterprise who is enjoying her first social event?" Vanessa asked. To her dismay, she felt herself batting her eyelashes.

"Um, thank you. But I'll have to pass. No offense, of course," McCoy said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Vanessa settled back in her chair, feeling just a little bit slighted.

"No, of course not. My apologies, Doctor," she said, automatically slipping back into a more formal tone of address.

Sulu, sitting to her right and overhearing the exchange, leaned in to her.

"Don't worry, the good doctor needs to preserve his energy to treat the alcohol-poisoned masses tomorrow morning." Then Sulu lowered his voice and spoke so that only she could hear. "That is, if he's able to stay vertical himself."

That brought a genuine smile to Vanessa's face, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. McCoy got up from the table, mumbling something about another drink.

A few minutes later, as the music shifted to a more uptempo beat, Kirk walked back to the table with Carol still on his arm.

"Okay, everyone on the floor immediately," he announced. "Anyone not dancing will be assigned to KP duty for the next week – and that is a direct order from your captain. And that means you too, Bones," Kirk said, intercepting the doctor heading back to his seat.

Kirk deftly lifted the glass from the man's hands and pushed him in the direction of the dance floor. McCoy grumbled in response, but allowed himself to be guided into the melee.

As she headed back out to the dance floor, Vanessa couldn't help but think that maybe - just maybe - the Enterprise was starting to feel a little bit more like home. As she looked around her at the smiling faces of the senior officers, she felt happy. She truly hoped she could one day call these people her friends. She hoped they might come to think of her the same way.

_They wouldn't feel that way if they knew the real reason you were on the Enterprise,_ a small voice inside her head nagged.

Vanessa tried to push the uncomfortable thought away. She wouldn't think about that now. Now was for dancing and laughing and living life.

And that was all that mattered at the moment.


	19. Chapter 19

_**AN: For those who are following my story, you have my deepest apologies for my total radio silence and lack of updates the past six months! I don't want to bore anyone with the sad details of my life, but back in January, my husband came home one day and announced that he was done with our marriage. It has been a very rough time and I just haven't had the heart to write. However, things are slowly getting better and I'm now finding I want to get back to my story. Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope to move forward and publish updates with more regularity. Thanks for reading! **_

****Story Progress: 40%**

* * *

Later that night, Scotty stumbled back to his quarters and just barely managed to clumsily remove his boots before falling face-first into bed and promptly passing out.

He awoke the next morning with a smile on his face, despite feeling somewhat dehydrated. As he ran his tongue over his parched lips, the engineer's thoughts slowly came into focus. He had had some very pleasant dreams last night, and while, in the metaphorical light of morning, he couldn't remember the exact details of those dreams, he felt their positive effects all the same.

As he lay in bed, Scotty wondered if his elevated mood had anything to do with the events of the preceding evening. When he thought more about it, he was certain that was the case, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. After a few minutes spent mentally replaying the events of the previous night, he suddenly remembered the task he had set out for himself that day and his mood shifted.

There was no time for idle recollections now. He had more serious matters to attend to.

Ignoring the slight pounding in his temples, Scotty arose, dressed quickly, and headed down to Engineering. He was officially off duty today, but his own personal sense of duty called. There were a few things he needed to sort out.

There was still no official explanation for the strange explosion that had occurred several weeks ago that had taken one of his crew member's lives. While Scotty had been fairly certain the Enterprise wasn't in any further danger from any potentially malfunctioning systems, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until the mystery was solved.

Scotty took the turbolift down to Engineering and headed back to the northwest corridor. Most of the damage to the bulkheads had been repaired, and the only signs that something out of the ordinary had ever occurred here were two dozen or so large pieces of scarred, twisted metal that sat lining the side of the hallway, each tagged and catalogued in the aftermath and awaiting further analysis.

A young, blond woman was bent over one of the larger pieces of debris, running a scan. She looked up as Scotty approached.

"Good morning, sir," Lieutenant Waters said, greeting him with a warm smile. "I had a feeling you might be in today."

The woman's arm, fractured during the incident, had been quickly mended by Dr. McCoy. As soon as she was cleared for duty, she had eagerly returned to her post. Now she turned to her boss and handed him a PADD.

"It's probably unrelated to what happened, but I identified some programming anomalies in the Engineering mainframe," Waters said, pushing her bangs off of her face. "I just wanted to bring it to your attention."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Scotty told her, taking the PADD from her outstretched hand.

"Aye, sir," she replied. "I'll be close by if you need anything else."

And with that, she turned and walked back down the northwest corridor, leaving Scotty alone.

He turned to the catalogued wreckage and quickly got to work scanning two of the smaller pieces of debris that he had yet to analyze. As he passed his scanning device over the second piece, something caught his eye.

He leaned in closer to examine the blast patterns scorched into the fragment. It almost looked like…. but that wouldn't make sense.

Scotty turned the piece over in his hand and rubbed off some soot. Underneath the dirt, he could just make out a series of tiny numbers engraved on the small piece of metal. He quickly turned to the nearest computer access panel and typed in the string of numbers to see if the Enterprise's vast data banks could find a match.

He got a hit.

And then he remembered Lt. Waters' mention of the programming anomalies. He picked the PADD she had given him back up and scrolled through the data that had been gathered. There were indeed some anomalies. Someone had been rooting around in the Enterprise's mainframe, redirecting certain subroutines.

Scotty's heart rate quickened as he turned back to the computer access panel, his fingers working the console. If nothing else, he should be able to determine who had been responsible for the clandestine programming efforts, since a personal access code would have had to have been utilized. In a few more minutes, he had his answer.

The name was familiar. A dark thought suddenly worked its way into Scotty's mind.

"No, that can't be right," he whispered.

He spent the next ten minutes checking and rechecking, running and rerunning his data, but still he came to the same uncomfortable conclusion. Almost in a daze, Scotty activated his comm.

"Engineering to Mr. Spock," he called out.

"Go ahead, Mr. Scott," came the prompt, crisp reply. The Vulcan certainly wasn't suffering from any ill after effects of the previous evening.

"I think I may have some answers as to what caused the explosion in Engineering," Scotty said with a sigh. "I'd like to see you and the Captain down here as soon as possible."

The Chief Engineer paused and coughed. "You may want to swing Jim by the Med Bay first, if you get my drift," he added. Jim Kirk had put away enough genuinely alcoholic drinks the night before to put an Iowan heifer six feet under, and Scotty knew he would probably need a little pharmaceutical help this morning to get back up to speed.

"Understood, Mr. Scott," Spock replied before severing the link.

Fifteen minutes later, Spock and a slightly pale Kirk stepped into Main Engineering and found their way back to the corridor where Scotty was situated.

"What have you got, Scotty?" Kirk asked, trying to get his eyes to focus.

"I'm not totally sure," Scotty said. "But if I'm right, you're not gonna like it. Take a look at this. Do you know what this is?"

He offered up the hand-sized metallic piece that had captured his interest a half hour earlier.

"It appears to be a fragment composed of a duranium alloy, typically utilized in standard Starfleet production," Spock replied, as he carefully looked the piece over.

"Aye," Scotty replied, nodding his head in agreement. "And according to ship's records, this fragment was part of a personal attaché case that belonged to Lieutenant John Michaels, one of my best engineers. He was working right here when the blast occurred, which is why he didn't make it…."

Scotty choked up for a brief moment, but he quickly cleared his throat and continued.

"Look at the blast patterns," he said, gesturing to the piece of debris in question. "I'm no explosives expert, but even to my eyes, it's clear that the forces that damaged this case came from inside and blew the material outward, rather than an outside blast that would have caused a damage pattern directed inward."

Despite any lingering effects of his hangover, Kirk's mind synthesized this information quickly.

"So you're saying an explosive device of some sort was inside this case," he said slowly. "That this wasn't an engineering malfunction at all."

Scotty shifted his weight and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm not saying that for sure," he said. "But it would fit the evidence, and explain why sensors didn't record anything amiss beforehand. And that's not the only thing."

Scotty turned back to the access panel he had been utilizing just a few minutes before and called up the necessary data.

"Apparently Lt. Michaels had been reprogramming certain subroutines in the ship's computer, affecting both navigation and communications functions."

Kirk frowned. He didn't like the direction in which this appeared to be going.

"Can you be certain that it was in fact the Lieutenant who was attempting to overwrite these subroutines?" Spock asked.

Scotty looked uncomfortable again. "His access codes were the ones used to access the mainframe."

"Scotty, pull up Michaels' personnel record," Kirk ordered.

"Already done, sir," Scotty informed him. "His record is spotless. No sign of any prior infractions or disciplinary actions in his entire career. Nothing looks out of the ordinary."

"Did Lt. Michaels have any close friends?" Kirk asked.

"His girlfriend, Lt. Emily Richter, works in Engineering," Scotty told him.

"Commander Bennett was also known to have a close acquaintance with Lt. Michaels," Spock offered. "She may be able to provide some additional insight."

"It just doesn't make any sense," Scotty said, exhaling loudly and running a hand through his hair. "I knew John. I just don't think he could have done this."

"Well, the evidence appears to say otherwise," Kirk replied.

"Captain," Spock interjected. "While we may not have sufficient evidence to place blame with Lt. Michaels, one thing is clear. If Mr. Scott's hypothesis regarding the origin of the explosion is correct, there was – or is- a saboteur on board. The Enterprise could still be in danger."

Kirk frowned again. "Start pulling all crew personnel files," he said to his two companions. "Let's see if anything looks out of place."

"And for now," he added. "Let's keep this just between the three of us. Got it?"

Spock and Scotty both nodded.

* * *

The next week passed fairly uneventfully for the crew. The Enterprise continued to track the thoranium signature and the unidentified alien ship deeper into the Beta Quadrant. Unfortunately, they were no closer to discovering who, or what, they were actually tracking or learning anything more about the missing Amarilians.

For her part, Vanessa moved through her days with a renewed sense of purpose, despite the general sense of uncertainty that hung over the ship and her crew. She had finally begun to feel more at home on board the Enterprise, and if she wasn't mistaken, she felt she was even growing to feel more of a sense of kinship with the senior officer group. It was a long time in coming, she thought.

Vanessa was holed up in Science Lab 1 late one night, working through some of the latest data readouts Commander Spock had passed off to her. She was just about to wrap up and call it a night when the doors to the lab suddenly swished open. She looked up and into the surprised eyes of Jim Kirk.

Kirk clearly wasn't expecting to find her there, but he recovered quickly.

"Commander," he greeted her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Captain," she replied, with a nod. "Can I help you with something?"

"No," Kirk replied, looking uncharacteristically flustered. "I was just… looking for…"

He broke off, and smiled his usual disarming smile. "Never mind. I'll leave you to your work."

Kirk turned back to the exit to leave, but he suddenly stopped. He turned back around to face Vanessa.

"Actually," he said. "I was hoping to talk to you for a minute. Would you care to take a walk?"

Vanessa hesitated. "Is that an order?" she asked, her mouth twisting into a wry smile.

"It can be," Kirk replied, a smirk dancing across his features.

Knowing she had little recourse, Vanessa reached over and turned off her equipment and stood up. Kirk gestured with his arm for her to exit the small room ahead of him, which she did.

The pair headed aft, walking down the Deck 8 corridor in silence. After a few moments, Vanessa's impatience got the better of her and she broke the quiet.

"Where are we going, sir?" she asked, eyes still focused ahead.

"The aft observation lounge," Kirk replied.

Vanessa's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she didn't give voice to her emotion. She merely continued on her way with her captain as they walked the corridor and entered the aforementioned lounge, which was completely devoid of personnel.

At the front of the room was a large viewing window, which currently showcased the sights of the Enterprise speeding through the galaxy at Warp 2.

The pair stood and stared in silence at the bright trails of light streaking through the sky for a moment or two.

"I understand you were acquainted with Lieutenant John Michaels," Kirk said at last.

"Well, yes," Vanessa replied, somewhat confused at the topic of conversation. "He was a good man. It was a shame what happened to him. I wish…. I wish I could have done more to save him."

"I know you and Bones did all you could," Kirk said, a touch more softly.

After a moment's pause, he continued. "Commander, are you aware of anything in Lieutenant Michaels' record of service that might… reflect poorly on him?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"Just what I said," Kirk replied. "I have reasons for asking."

Vanessa sighed. She decided to be truthful.

"Lieutenant Michaels was engaging in some… unauthorized reprogramming efforts in the Enterprise mainframe," she said. "He didn't mean any harm. He was only trying to impress his girlfriend with some thoughtful gestures. He just… wasn't very good at it. He accidentally stumbled into some critical subroutines, but he didn't do any damage. I checked."

"So you knew about this and didn't make a report?" Kirk asked, more curious than angry.

"I didn't think it was relevant," she replied. "I still don't. But it was an infraction, and I should have brought it to Scotty's attention. I was wrong and I apologize, sir."

Suddenly, she chuckled.

"Perhaps I truly am a part of the Enterprise now," she said. _Lax regulations and rule-bending included,_ she added silently, although from his face, her companion fully understood her unspoken meaning.

Kirk looked intently at her, and Vanessa recognized the look. It was the same intense, searching gaze he had turned on her when they were dancing just a few weeks ago.

"What?" Vanessa asked, confused.

Kirk shook his head and a small smile worked its way across his face.

"I just don't get you, Bennett," he said with a small laugh.

"I believe the feeling is mutual, sir," she ventured, knowing she was dancing close to a line she shouldn't cross.

"How so?" Kirk asked, still smiling.

Vanessa shook her head. "Sir, I wouldn't dare to…."

"I'd like to know," Kirk said, interrupting her. "Off the record."

Vanessa paused and glanced at him, considering her next words carefully.

"Why did you join Starfleet?" she finally asked.

Next to her, Jim Kirk shifted his weight.

"My father was promoted to Captain for a mere ten minutes almost thirty years ago," Kirk replied. "In those ten minutes, he managed to save the lives of almost everyone on board the _U.S.S. Kelvin._ Someone… Admiral Christopher Pike… dared me to do better."

"George Kirk will always be remembered as a hero," Vanessa told him. "And yet his son chooses to honor his memory every year by drinking himself silly with his crew."

Kirk offered a half smile. "So you still disapprove of throwing a little shindig every now and then?"

"I don't have a problem with parties or crew gatherings aboard the Enterprise," she told him. "I quite enjoyed myself, actually. But I do have to wonder…."

She turned to look at Jim Kirk.

"I have to wonder," she continued. "If the Enterprise's captain is using such a gathering as an excuse to avoid facing the reality of what happened that day. Your father was just about your age when the _Kelvin _was attacked, wasn't he?"

Kirk turned back to look out the viewport, his face blank. "Yes, he was exactly my age when he died."

"I can imagine that must be…" she trailed off. Vanessa took a deep breath and continued.

"It's none of my business, sir," she said, talking faster now. "And forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds. But perhaps next year on your birthday you might want to consider forgoing the party and taking some time on your own to reflect on your father's life and what he meant to Starfleet. And to you."

Kirk was silent, his gaze still fixed on the viewport. He slowly inhaled and then exhaled.

"Point taken, Commander," he said, quietly.

"Sir, I'm sorry," she said, suddenly feeling she had said too much. "I didn't mean to get personal or…."

Kirk cut her off with a shake of his head. "No," he said, "I asked. And there is… some truth to what you said. Actually, I…."

But Kirk suddenly stopped himself, apparently reconsidering his thoughts. He smiled and nodded to Vanessa.

"Well, thank you for your time, Commander," he finally said. "I won't keep you any longer."

And with that, the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise turned and walked away. Vanessa continued to stare straight ahead at the bright trails of light in the viewport before her.

She was left alone with her thoughts, which were more confused and conflicted than ever.


End file.
